


There's Somethang About Rick

by demented_queen



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Angst and Humor, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, I actually use the word thang, M/M, No one is a villian, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, The place is a horny hotbed, but not too much, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 105,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demented_queen/pseuds/demented_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finalizing the divorce papers with Lori (and seriously, is this a trope unto its own), Rick moves into an apartment building in Atlanta to start his new life.  He has to seriously wonder about his sanity though when he has to deal with his rather effeminately furnished living space, strange neighbors like the sweet couple who live down the hall with their college coed sister who can't seem to keep from jumping Rick whenever she sees him, the two lesbian lawyers on the top floor that want to make him the meat in their sandwich, the guy named Morgan who thinks he's Batman and the fascinating guy across the hall with the quick smile and riveting eyes named Daryl who has a brother that likes to answer the door naked. </p><p>Then again, maybe sanity is over-rated and this place is just what Rick needs.</p><p>Eventual Rickyl smut, somewhere down the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just what the homeless guy said

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is my first Walking Dead fanfic. Yes, this is an ensemble comedy. I wanted to see if I could write everyone so they're still canon, even though the zombie apocalypse hasn't happened. Also, no one is evil.

As Rick ambled up to the apartment building, an old structure made of brick and stone, he noticed a homeless man sitting by the corner, a sign propped on his lap claiming TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.  
  
No truer words were spoken as far as he was concerned.  
  
Having only signed the divorce papers a week ago, Rick was now a free man, a free agent in the market of available men now on the chopping block.  
  
Okay, maybe that was a bit cynical.  
  
But here he was, now having relocated to Atlanta, a new cop on the force in the Atlanta PD and currently as homeless as the man toting the sign.  
  
Well, at least he had a comfy room at the Ramada Inn, complete with cable television and maid service, until he could find a place to live for the next foreseeable future.  
  
Which brought him to the building in question at this very moment.  
  
Having looked through numerous ads had given Rick a headache the size of his current mortgage, which according to Lori's attorney, he was still required to pay.  
  
How was it a wife could fuck around behind his back, with his best friend no less, and still manage to come out of the divorce with the house, the car and the kids.  At least he had managed to get Carl and Judith on the weekends.  
  
Maybe he had to concede the children to Lori.  Despite everything, Judith was still a baby and she shouldn't be away from her mother for too long and Rick didn't make it any easier by moving to Atlanta from Cynthiana so the weekends were about all he could get away with.  Then again, he wouldn't have had to transfer if it hadn't been for the simple fact that she was sleeping with Shane and there was no way he could work on the same force as that man.  
  
And round and round Rick went.  
  
Lori was right about one thing.  
  
He was too damn reasonable.  
  
But back to the problem at hand.  Every apartment that was in a great neighborhood and had plenty of room (for both himself and the kids on the weekend) was way out of his pay range because a policeman's salary was nothing to sneeze at but when you were currently paying the mortgage on a home you were expressly not allowed to live in as well as the rent on something you were supposed to live in, then that paycheck started to get squeezed tighter than a size 5 pair of skinny jeans on a size 9 pair of hips.  So either an apartment was perfect but too expensive or it was within his means but too small.  Or it was affordable and had the room but it was located in a neighborhood that was the kind of neighborhood that the local police would get called to all too frequently, the police who could afford to live in a nice house on the right side of town because their wives didn't fool around on them and take the house.  
  
He couldn't believe his good luck when he spotted the ad for the place he was currently looking at.  
  
Roomy, furnished, two bedroom, nice neighborhood, clean building and right within his price range.  
  
And looking at the outside of the building, and the nice area he was surrounded in (despite the homeless man on the corner) he wondered if this was too good to be true.   
  
And while he stood on the stoop looking up, a man in a fishing hat and tropical shirt walked out.  
  
"Rick Grimes?" the man in the hat asked.  
  
"Yep," Rick chuckled nervously, wondering if the word RICK GRIMES, AFFABLE LOSER was tattooed on his forehead.  
  
"Dale Horvath," the man said as he extended his hand.  "Punctual, I like that," Dale smirked as he shook hands with Rick.   
  
"Well, I couldn't rightly pass up the opportunity to see the place.  Sounds too good to be true, honestly."  
  
"Well," Dale winced, "you better wait until you see it.  Come on, follow me."  
  
Well, that didn't sound ominous, not one tiny bit.  Rick followed the man inside the building, immediately taking note of the entranceway.  Two double glass doors leading to another glass door and into a row of mailboxes along the wall, hexagonal tile flooring throughout.   
  
So far, so good.  
  
"Okay, so no elevator," Dale started off, "just stairs but you get used to them."  He looked warily up to the top.  "Well, most people do.  Unfortunately, I'm not one of them," he sighed.  
  
Rick looked up and could see the stairs going up forever winding around and around until he could see the very top where a large stained glass skylight could be seen.  
  
"Isn't the apartment on the…?"  
  
"Yep, fifth floor.  Still interested?"  
  
Rick thought about the two bedroom that he could afford in the shadier part of town.  He thought of Carl making friends with the local meth dealer named Skippy.  "Yep still interested," he nodded a bit too enthusiastically.  
  
When they arrived to the fifth floor, he was amazed he had lasted as well as he had.  Guess he was in better shape then he thought.   
  
He wasn't so sure he could say the same for Dale though, who was currently crouched over, holding his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.  "You okay," Rick asked uncertainly.  
  
"Oh…I'll be…fine," Dale huffed, trying to appease all of Rick's worries.  "Shit, you'd think this place would be equipped with a crash cart," the older man laughed as he straightened back up.  "I hope you want this apartment.  It's a bitch showing it to anybody else."  
  
"How many people you show it to?"  Rick started doing calculations in his head.  How bad could it be in there if no one wanted it?  
  
"A few," Dale shrugged.  "Some women, some men.  It wasn't what any of them wanted.  The woman who lived here before, she was…well, lets just go in."  
  
Following the landlord in and feasting his eyes for the first time on the place, that proverbial lightbulb had just clicked on in Rick's head.  
  
"It's a bit too feminine, even for some of the women," Dale nodded reluctantly.  "The woman who lived here landed an amazing opportunity in Italy and she had to leave quickly.  She didn't want to bring anything so she left it to me.  I guess I could have removed everything, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  The chi in this place is _amazing_ …"  
  
Rick took in the apartment as Dale droned on about energy and some other shit.  
  
There was so much estrogen floating around in the unit he could almost feel himself putting weight on his hips and thighs.  Looking past the quaint kitchen with its cottage-like antique cabinets and the colorful tile, he took in the living area with its whitewashed exposed brick walls and long windows that let the sunlight in a way that was well lit without being too bright.  There were hand drawn botanical prints on the walls and floral everything, from the lamp to the couch.  
  
Oh the couch!   
  
Now he was feeling a bit bloated.  
  
The couch was a beautiful velvety, over-upholstered thing with a big loopy golden flower design.  The problem was, not that it was an eyesore but that it fit in the apartment so well.  
  
When Rick ventured into the bedroom, the estrogen didn't merely hit him in the face as it did when he first walked into the unit, it tackled him to the ground and put him in a chokehold.  
  
There was a wrought iron bed, whitewashed of course, with bedding in a burgundy, red and white paisley.  The fact that he knew what paisley was was a testament to Lori's thorough domestication of him.  The dresser was a painted mint green and the wallpaper was a bold pattern of red flowers on a cream background.  It actually looked cozy.  
  
Moving through the rest of the apartment, he noticed a room in the back, which didn't fit with the rest of the decorative scheme as it was completely unfinished which meant he could do whatever he wanted to it.  It would be perfect for Carl and roomy enough for a crib.   
  
Noticing Rick's confusion, Dale quickly added, "she was an artist.  She made these _fascinating_ sculptures.  That was her studio.  She took everything in there with her."  
  
After a bit of a pause, Dale sighed.  "So, I won't waste anymore of your time…"  
  
Rick nodded and spun around the living area once more.  
  
It was the type of apartment Lori would have loved.  It was the kind she pored over in her decorating magazines that she stashed all over the house.  
  
Lori was always trying to recreate places like this in their home but never quite got the hang of doing it.  She couldn't seem to put the right pieces together.  
  
She took pride in their home, but she was never satisfied with the way it looked.  It never reached her expectations.  It was always a constant source of frustration for her.  
  
This place?  This looked like it stepped right out of one of those magazines.  It was perfectly put together without looking like it was perfectly put together.   
  
Something Lori could never have accomplished, no matter what layouts she looked at, what fabric swatches she poured over.  
  
It retrospect. Lori would _hate_ the place.  She would hate the fact that she couldn't have created even a tenth of its simple charm.  She would look at the place and resent it feeling it forever mocking her every time she came to visit.  
  
"I'll take it," Rick announced quickly and decisively, a self-satisfied smile gracing his face.  
  
"You will?" Dale sputtered in shock.  
  
New job.  New apartment.  
  
After all it _was_ the first day of the rest of his life.  
  



	2. Not So Invisible Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I forgot to mention in the first chapter, the apartment in based on Ally Darling's place in "What's Your Number." I love that movie (even if its vulgar). I love naked Chris Evans (because who doesn't). And I love that apartment.
> 
> Rick meets some of the residents in this chapter. And you know how much people like shiny, new things. Enjoy!

  
  
  
Holding onto one of the moving boxes containing some of his meager possessions and stepping into his new place of residence, Rick anxiously looked up when he came to the first step of the long winding staircase.  
  
It took him a minute to figure out what exactly he was feeling as he confronted the images above when it suddenly occurred to him what it was.  
  
He distinctly knew now what a bird in captivity felt like when surrounded by a bevy of cats all peering into its cage for when he looked up at the balconies, there seemed to be some of the tenants all leaning against the railing, looking down at their new prey.  
  
That is to say, their new neighbor.  
  
Wanting to tamp down on his paranoia, he decided that maybe the cable was just out in the building and people needed something better to do.  It couldn't possibly be that _he_ was the source of all this intrigue.  
  
"Uh hi," Rick uttered, slightly taken aback at the sudden attention.  
  
Some people waved back, some leaned in closer but it was one group in particular, located on the first balcony, on the second floor, that came thundering down upon him.  
  
"Hi!" the tallest of the three young men said friendly enough, a charismatic smile on his face.  He was by far the most attractive of the trio.  
  
"Hey," the second, a boy wearing a hoodie, nodded while the third, a man who seemed to like jumping in one place quite a bit, replied with a wave and an enthusiastic "dude."  
  
The tallest one who had spoken first, stood directly in front of Rick, and no this should not have made him as nervous as it did, but it had.  "Um, sorry, we sorta came out at you like that," he chuckled.  "I'm Gareth," he said as he indicated himself.  "That's my brother Alex," he pointed to the jumpy "dude"-calling guy, "and our friend, Martin. "  
  
"Nice to meet ya all, I'm Rick," he replied while balancing his box on his hip.  
  
"It's Marty.  Hate Martin," the boy in the hoodie mumbled.  "Martin is a serial killer name and I'm no serial killer."  
  
Well, that was a relief.  
  
"So…you're the new guy in 5C, right?" Gareth smiled.  
  
Marty snickered while Alex looked on sympathetically.  "Dude, its like a girl's apartment."  
  
"Yeah," Rick nodded, "well, it was affordable and…"  
  
There was a collective "Ah" all around while Gareth had that compassionate grin on his face like he understood everything which Rick highly doubted.   
  
In fact, he doubted the three of these young men with their collective intelligence could understand the concept of global warming let alone Rick's plight.  
  
It was then that he noticed they were all wearing green aprons, the kind only Starbucks' employees wore (including Marty who managed to put the hoodie on under his apron).  
  
"Ya all work at the Starbucks on 5th and Main, just around the corner?" Rick asked.  
  
"Oh no," Gareth laughed.  "Well I do," he clarified as he indicated himself, "but Marty works at the one on 6th and Main and…"  
  
"Don't tell me," Rick smiled, "Alex here works at the one on 7th and Main."  
  
"Dude! " Alex exclaimed shaking his head, "there isn't one on 7th.  I work at the one on 4th and Main."  
  
Well, that answers _that_ question.  There really _wasn't_ a Starbucks on every corner but it was close.  
  
He also wondered why these three young men lived here in Georgia.  They looked like they belonged in Seattle somewhere, protesting something while crying for anarchy to reign.  
  
"Hey!  We gotta motor," Gareth said, "but…welcome," he smiled, his arms outstretched.  
  
For all Rick knew, he could either be indicating the building or planet earth itself.  
  
He watched as all three left through the door with a round of 'he seems nice' and a 'dude' thrown in there somewhere.  
  
Continuing his journey up the flight of stairs, he started to notice more of the people, all looking back at him, their eyes taking every inch of him in.  The second balcony he came to, on the third floor, he had to come to an abrupt halt as a small whirlwind hit him and practically knocked him off his feet.  
  
"Hi new neighbor!" the small girl squealed as she threw her arms around his neck while jumping on him and throwing her legs around his waist.  
  
"Down Bethy, get off that man!" the slightly older female of the little group admonished.  
  
The girl disengaged begrudgingly while Rick looked down at her.  
  
She looked about fifteen, with her earnest smile, big blue eyes and her hair pulled back in a bouncy, bobbing pony tail.  
  
So help him.  It was still bouncing.  
  
Rick was quite aware of the fact that someone like her should come equipped with a big sign that read DANGER! STAND AT LEAST 5 FEET AWAY lest you should be put on a national registry and not allowed to go to your son's school functions without having to alert the proper authorities.  
  
"We're sorry, my sister's like an overexcited puppy," the pretty woman with short, dark hair and a pleasing smile apologized.  
  
"Would a few whacks with a rolled up newspaper help?" Rick laughed to help break the ice when he heard, Beth he presumed, giggle.  
  
Great, not even half an hour in and he was already suggesting a porno starring the old pervert cop spanking the young, nubile schoolgirl.  
  
The only way this day could get any worse was if someone's dog came out of one of the units and wizzed on him.  
  
"Don't mind Beth, first time away from home.  Living on her own," the woman said while the man next to her groaned.  "Oh I'm sorry, where are my damn manners?  I'm Maggie.  This is my fiance, Glenn."  Both girls were obviously native to the state as he heard the slow southern twang in their speech.  
  
"Hey," Glenn, an attractive Asian with what appeared to be a happy go lucky attitude, said as he extended his hand.  
  
"My sister here is living with us while she attends the local university.  Daddy thought it'd be better for her if she lived with us instead of in the dorms."  
  
"Could you imagine her in the dorms?" Glenn scoffed.  
  
Good to know. Attending a university meant she was at least eighteen.  She was legal.  
  
But not by much.  
  
Then again, legal or not, he did _not_ plan on initiating anything with that one.  
  
"If she bothers you much, let me know," Maggie supplied matter-of-factly.  
  
"Okay well, nice to meet ya all," Rick said as he tried to extricate himself from the bouncy, undeniably clingy, college coed, who also so happened to be stroking his hair the whole time.  
  
"So does your hair do that on its own," she asked wistfully as she continued to run her fingers through Rick's curls.  
  
"Um…"  
  
"Bethy!  Stop petting that poor man's head!  Ya don't want me to have to tell daddy maybe you should go to the local community college back home now, do ya."  
  
Beth jumped off Rick as if he were an electrified fence that had just been turned on and was now live.  
  
As Rick started to climb the next flight of stairs, waving to the trio behind him, who continued to stare after the man (and he was certainly not amiss in seeing the sympathetic wave Glenn threw his way), he came upon the fourth floor where a solitary figure stood.  
  
"I'm Joe.  Hi," the older man stated.  The man had gray hair, was much taller than Rick and his face looked like a few miles of rough road.  
  
The first impression he had of the man was that he was certain he knew him from somewhere.  
  
Rick had been in law enforcement for the past fifteen years so he hoped to high heaven it wasn't in a police file, a wanted poster or a book of mugshots.  
  
"Rick," he replied back.  
  
Both men nodded to each other.  "Well," Joe said, "that's all I got on accountin' I'm pretty lit right now so you'll have to excuse me."  
  
And just like that, Rick watched as the man ambled back into Apartment 4C.  
  
He had _finally_ reached the fifth floor, when he noticed there were four women above him, hanging between his floor and the sixth (which also happened to be the final floor of the building) on the stairs.  
  
They were all smiling at him while whispering to each other.  
  
He subconsciously reached up to smooth his hair back, not knowing what state Beth had left him in.  
  
"You missed a curl," the blond woman said, looking entirely too amused.   
  
Tucking his hair behind his ear, he addressed the women.  "Ladies."  
  
"Oooh, cowboy's got manners," one of the women, a pretty African-American with lovely eyes, sniggered.  "His mama taught him well."  
  
Now at this point Rick could have felt a bit cross at all the attention but the truth of the matter was, after all these years of being taken for granted by Lori, basically being the invisible man in his own home, all the attention was, he had to admit, rather nice.  
  
"I'm Andrea," the blond woman said, "and this is my partner, Michonne."  Rick looked at the woman she had indicated, another pretty African-American, with a head full of well-cared for dreadlocks and a stern look that was quickly transformed when she smiled.   
  
It lit the damn hallway.  
  
"Pleasure," she purred.  
  
No really, she _purred_ the word.  He could almost physically feel the word wrap itself around him, caressing his skin.  
  
Before he could respond, the woman with the short, curly grey hair must have bounded down the stairs at some point because she was standing right before him.  
  
"I'm Carol.  Carol Peletier."  She had a sweet smile and seemed a bit shy when she held out her hand.  Coyly, she looked directly at him, "there is no Mr. Peletier, in case you were wondering'."  
  
"I'm sorry.  Divorce too?" Rick inquired.  
  
"No, he died," she said off-handedly.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Rick quickly amended.  
  
"Pfft.  Don't be.  I'm not," she waved away with a smile.   
  
"Car accident," Rick asked.  "Or sickness?"  
  
"He fell backwards on a pick axe."  
  
"He fell backward…?"  
  
"It was an _accident_!" Carol suddenly became defensive.  "I was cleared of any wrong doing," she pouted while looking away and curling one strand of hair around her finger.  
  
She said she was cleared of any wrong doing so Rick wasn't going to question it.  
  
He would _never turn his back_ on the woman but he would never question it.  
  
"I'm Sasha, by the way," the one who had made the cowboy comment clarified as she waved down at Rick, drawing the attention away from Carol.  
  
"Well, ladies, I'm gonna get my stuff situated.  Nice to meet ya all," he said as he was about to open the door to 5C when the door on the other side of the newel post, 5B, opened and a naked man came out.  
  
Completely.  Ass.  Naked.  
  
Well almost, except for the dish towel covering his johnson, but other than that, he was completely naked and didn't seem to give a shit.  
  
"You the new guy in 5C, huh?" the man smirked.  "I was hoping for someone with big ole titties and a nice ass," the man said sounding disappointed.  
  
"Well, at least we got the nice ass," one of the women tittered.  
  
He wasn't sure which one had made the comment, but he stepped back so his 'nice ass' was firmly against his door.  
  
"Merle, go back inside and put some fucking clothes on, man!" Glenn yelled at the naked man as he made his way up the stairs, bringing Beth and Maggie with him.  
  
"Fuck you, you fuckin' Chinaman!" the man who Rick assumed was named Merle yelled back.  
  
"Korean!  Fucking Korean!" Glenn bellowed.  "God!  You can't even get it right when you're fucking being all derogatory."  
  
"Can't a man get his own damn paper without the lot of ya all gettin' your damn panties in a twist?!" Merle barked.  
  
God, Rick hoped that tiny dish towel stayed strategically in place.  
  
"Then put some damn clothes on.  We're tired of seeing that ugly, white ass of yours," Michonne snarled.  
  
"Ya all love ma' naked ass.  Admit it!" Merle chimed as he turned around and did a swishing movement with his hips.  "I keep telling ya all ya gotta do is come on down to ole Merle and he'll show you munchers how its done."  He finished with a few kissing noises aimed at the women.  
  
Rick watched as Beth had quickly covered her eyes and uttered a "Ew."  
  
"Merle!  Goddamn it, Merle!  What did I tell ya about talking to ma' friends!" a man roared angrily and frustratingly as he came out of the same apartment as Merle.  
  
"I was jus' being friendly with our new neighbor there," Merle justified smugly as he pointed to Rick, "it was his fault and then your damn nosy _friends_ here started getting in ma' face about ma' clothing choices, baby brother."  
  
Oh, good.  They were brothers.  
  
And why Rick suddenly felt good about that revelation, he couldn't really explain.  Not until much, much later.  
  
Returning to the scene unfolding at the moment, Rick looked from one brother to the other.  
  
He could not, for the life of him, see the resemblance.  
  
As he regarded the duo, he saw the apparently younger of the two, the one who was not-Merle, sigh in exasperation.  
  
He probably did that quite a bit.  
  
"You're the new guy," the other man acknowledged as he turned in Rick's direction.  
  
"Yep," Rick nodded.   
  
"It's some apartment, huh?" the man drawled, a smile adorning his face.  
  
"It's...," Rick shrugged.  
  
"Four walls and a roof," Maggie supplied quickly.  
  
"Yep," Rick chuckled.  "That it is."  
  
And with that everyone started to laugh, the ice having been broken, Maggie's contribution thereby putting paid to the whole 'what's a guy like you doing in a place like that' conversation.  
  
"Merle, go inside and put your damn clothes on!" the man implored once again.  
  
"Yes Darlina," Merle simpered snidely as he went back in.  
  
"Sorry 'bout that," the man groaned as he looked down, "that's jus' Merle.  He don' mean nothin' by it.  He's jus' used ta walking around half naked in our pa's old cabin."  
  
"You telling a stranger our whole life story?!" Merle hollered from inside.  
  
"Shut the fuck up Merle!" the brother hollered back, "and put your damn clothes on.  So, name's Daryl," he said a bit quieter and with a grin, as he came up to Rick and offered his hand.  
  
"Rick, nice to meet ya, neighbor," he smiled back.  
  
"Ya moving all your stuff by yerself?" Daryl asked as he looked around, expecting Rick's friends to magically appear.  
  
"My wife got my best friend in the divorce," Rick chuckled.  
  
"That sucks."  
  
"My son, Carl, wanted ta help but Lori said naw 'til she could see the place for herself."  
  
"I already said that sucks right?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"No offense, but your old lady sounds like a bitch."  
  
"No offense taken."  
  
He liked Daryl.  
  
Rick looked around and noticed everyone still gathered around watching the exchange rather avidly.  
  
And that was when Merle came out, dressed in basically the same thing Daryl was wearing.  
  
The only resemblance these two seemed to have was in their choice of wardrobe.  
  
"What you been hashing about out here, baby brother.  I never get two words outta you.  All a sudden pretty boy gets you all being Chatty Kathy," Merle grumbled.  
  
"Shut the fuck up Merle."  Daryl looked around at everyone and threw his hands up in the air.  "Didn't ya hear the man?  He got no one to help him move.  What ya all standin' around for.  See these stairs?  'Member what happened to ole Otis when he tried to move in a year ago?"  
  
Everyone looked down.  
  
As if in remembrance.  
  
There were some things Rick knew he didn't want to know.   
  
This was one of them.  
  
"Now le's go down and everyone grab a box and get this man moved in.  Come on!" Daryl urged everyone on down.  
  
Taking a quick calculation, Rick realized that if everyone (including Merle) were to grab a box, they would be done in one trip.  
  
Yes, that was how much his life amounted to.  A few measly boxes.  
  
"I'm gonna put this in my apartment," Rick said as he finally opened his door.  
  
"Yeah, here," Daryl said as he got the door for Rick while the rest of everyone (including Merle) walked down the stairs to his truck.  
  
He could a hear a distant 'Shut the fuck up Merle' down the stairs.  
  
"Ya get used to it," Daryl shrugged.  
  
"What?  Ya mean the naked thing or the man's winning personality," Rick drawled.  
  
"Both.  Shit man, this place is so…"  
  
"Yep," Rick sighed.  "What was she like?  The lady here before."  
  
"Small, blond, kinda like Beth only older and not jumping on everything with a cock," Daryl scoffed.  
  
"So, it's not just me."  That was a bit of a relief.  
  
"Well, she hasn't done Gareth or his friends, or Merle, or me, or Joe.  Yeah, I guess it is jus' you."   
  
And that relief was short-lived.  
  
Rick listened to Daryl talking about where the safest place to park was and the best pizza place to eat at when he started to tune out the words and just listen to the sound.  
  
Daryl had one of the nicest sounding, most sensual voices he had ever heard.  Just as Michonne before, only better.  The timbre wanted to surround Rick in a warm cocoon and lull him into a state of equanimity.  
  
And just like that, Rick wondered what the hell the apartment was doing to him.  
  
One to never wax poetic on anything, he had to seriously consider that _maybe, just maybe,_ the woman that had lived here before was actually in fact, not in Italy with her new amazing life but dead, and her ghost was currently possessing the unit at this moment.  
  
Rick looked down to make sure his cock was still there.  
  
Yep, still there.  
  
Before Rick was able to engage Daryl in further conversation, everyone started walking back into the apartment with a box or two in each arm.  
  
Rick looked at everyone as they put the boxes down (including Merle) while collapsing on the nearest surface or leaning against the wall.  
  
"God, I hate the fifth floor," Glenn sighed.  "But that's all of 'em!"  
  
Rick looked at the various boxes scattered on the floor.  
  
"Um, guys?  This ain't my stuff."  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I threw naked Merle in because I was inspired by naked Chris Evans in the other movie. Although, no one would tell Chris Evans to put his 'damn clothes on!'


	3. Points on a compass are subjective and cubanos are sandwiches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the moving box mix-up is explained.

  
  
  
  
"You sure this ain't your stuff?" Merle pouted.  He looked so sad and lost, Rick almost felt sorry for him.  
  
"Yep, I'm pretty sure."  Rick reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a gaudy, gold-rimmed commemorative plate of the Virgin Mary.  In the other hand he held a chihuahua dog lamp.  
  
"Now that's just tragic," Andrea intoned.  
  
"Where did ya guys grab all this stuff?" Rick asked, pulling out more cheap art that was obviously crafted south of the border.  
  
"You said you parked on the east corner, right?" Glenn asked with a bit of uncertainty.  
  
"Where do you think the east corner _should_ be?" Rick queried.  
  
"Right behind the little sandwich shop?" Maggie shrugged.  
  
"Aw man, they don't know _shit_ about directions," Daryl moaned.  "That's the _west_ corner."   
  
"So I take it you didn't empty out a small, blue Ford truck?" Rick winced.  
  
"No, its was a large, beat up, black Chevy truck.  With those little dingle bells in the window and crushed red velvet on the dashboard…oh," Glenn stuttered, holding his forehead in one palm.  
  
"See?  I told you it wasn't his!" Carol clamored out in conviction.  
  
"Okay, this makes us feel _so_ much better about you," Sasha affirmed happily.  "See this face?  Relieved face."  
  
"I knew it wasn't his," Beth scowled, her brows knit together.  "Ya all wouldn't listen to me."  
  
"So this ain't your stuff?" Merle sulked.  
  
"No, Merle it ain't!  Stop being such a fuckin' baby.  We just haf' to go down again," Daryl grumbled.  "Lord knows ya need the exercise."  
  
"I ain't bitchin' cuz I gotta go back down.  I wanted to know how much he wanted for _this_?!"  And with that Merle pulled out a painting of Elvis on a black velvet background.  "That there is a master-fucking-piece!  And look at these shoes.   Now these are some great fuckin' shoes!"  
  
Merle pulled out a pair of bright blue suede dress shoes with zebra fabric on the vamps.  
  
If there was a more hideous pair of shoes in all of Georgia, Rick did not want to meet them.  
  
"Merle, put those god awful things back!  Those ain't Rick's so you can't barter for em!" Daryl growled.  "Sides, Rick would never be caught _dead_ in em!"  
  
"Why ya's gotta go get my hopes up and this shit ain't even yours!" Merle shouted at Rick.  
  
"This ain't his fault Merle!  The lot of ya couldn't even get tha damn car right!"  Daryl yelled back in defense of Rick.    
  
"And whaddaya' mean 'I need the exercise?'" Merle confronted his brother.    
  
"Shut the fuck up Merle," Daryl groused in exasperation.  
  
If he kept a running tally of every time he heard 'Shut the fuck up Merle', Rick wondered if he would win a prize when he reached one-hundred.  
  
Something like, Shane getting the crappy shift that no one wanted at work or a particularly nasty case of the clap.  
  
"I guess, we have to go downstairs and return this stuff to the correct person," Rick sighed.  
  
"You actually _think_ someone is missing this shit?" Glenn scoffed.  
  
"Yeah, okay, Rick's right," Daryl nodded, while everyone groaned, got back up and marched down the stairs.  
  
He already loved the fact that Daryl seemed to have his back.  
  
"Boy, talk abou' shitty first impressions, huh?" Rick chaffed to Daryl, who happened to be walking down alongside of him.  
  
"Yer talkin' to a guy whose brother's always running 'round naked," Daryl knocked back.  "Sides, it were their own fault, don't know their damn directions."  
  
" _I_ knew which corner was east and _I_ _knew_ , that in no way, shape or form, was that your truck," a haughty Michonne derided as she walked up beside the two, nudging Rick playfully.  
  
Rick looked back at the woman and smiled, tingling where she had made contact with him.  "I suppose you would."  
  
Before the trio could get into a more spirited round of banter, they heard a harried woman, speaking in what was undoubtedly the fastest Spanish Rick had ever heard, coming from the foot of the stairs.  
  
Rick would bet Carl's college fund on who that voice could possibly belong to.  
  
"Um guys, I think we found the owner of those boxes," Glenn murmured, confirming Rick's thoughts.  
  
"Oh hey!" Dale said gratefully as he noticed everyone coming down the stairs, "My Spanish is pretty rusty.  I'm not sure what in the hell she's getting excited about.  Her aura is _so_ distressed right now," he said as he rolled his eyes.  "I think it's something about her stuff being taken.  Either that or she hit a moose but I don't think moose are indigenous to Atlanta."  
  
With the way everyone looked around guiltily, Dale nodded his head, Rick noticing the exact 'aha' moment.    
  
"What was I thinking, of course you know.  What did you do?" Dale sighed in resignation.  
  
"Well, I think we…that is… _I_ was moving.  See, I have a blue truck and…and I said east…but not Glenn's idea of east…and I don't know, it's really funny…but we sorta…took her stuff," Rick winced.  "It's all in my apartment right now."  
  
Dale huffed in acceptance while nodding his head, "I don't know how to tell her that though.  She's waving her arms around and…"  
  
"I speak some Spanish, I can talk to her, let her know it was a mistake," Rick appeased.  
  
"Oh good," Dale exhaled.  
  
"Did I hear you need assistance in translating?" a very tall man stated as he came in from the outside.  "I couldn't help but overhear her distress," he smiled as he looked at the people gathered.  "I speak fluent Spanish."  
  
"Oh that's just great!" Dale admonished as he threw his hands up in the air.  "Rick here can talk to the nice lady.  Stay out of it Philip.  And since when do you know fluent Spanish?"  
  
"No, I insist," the one called Philip contended.  
  
"We know wha' happened here already _ass_ ," Daryl jeered.  
  
"Look, I know Spanish," Rick reiterated.  "I'll talk to her.  It's ma' fault anyway."  
  
"No its okay," Philip smiled condescendingly.  
  
Rick grimaced as Philip addressed the agitated woman in the worst Spanish he had ever heard.  
  
Okay great.    
  
He just asked the woman if a caterpillar was walking around in her pants.  
  
The angry woman started shrieking at Philip, hurling insults at him, no doubt the obstinate man having not the slightest clue of what she was saying.  
  
Philip tried to calm her down by telling her a rabid monkey was going to come along and help her with her maidenhood.  
  
Rick was pretty sure the flustered woman's shrill cries could be heard in space at this point.  
  
"Okay, let me take care of this," Rick cajoled.  "Thank you for your help Philip."  
  
"Be my guest," he said as he dismissed the woman and stepped aside.  
  
Rick asked the woman if she was looking for her stuff, and in turn she rushed out her entire story about how she was helping her sister move across town when she decided to stop at the sandwich shop (Rick noting that being the one on the west corner) when she looked up from eating her cubano, which she also explained was a Cuban grilled ham and cheese sandwich, (Rick now remembering it had been a while since he had last eaten and a cubano sounded _heavenly_ ) and observed people taking everything out of her truck.  
  
He apologized profusely, told her it was a misunderstanding and that everyone would bring the boxes downstairs and put everything back into her truck for her.  
  
She smiled, grabbed Rick by his face and kissed him on both cheeks, thanking him for saving her from the crazy, tall gringo with the very bad Spanish and that it wasn't his fucking business what she had running around in her pants.  
  
And just when he thought the whole mess had been handled, Merle yelled out, "Hey!  Don't forget to ask her about the damn shoes!"  
  
"Shut the fuck up Merle!" Rick hollered back, his hands on his hips.  
  
"Well, it's official.  He's one of us," Sasha acceded.  
  
"Sorry about that Dale," Rick apologized, "I should have gone down to the truck with everyone."  
  
"It's okay.  I'm used to that kind of thing around here," he shrugged.  "So I see you've met some of the tenants already.  I hope they didn't come on too strong?"  
  
"We were fine Dale," Andrea scoffed.  
  
"Uh huh," Dale nodded.  
  
"So you're the one who moved into 5C, huh?" Philip grinned.  "You know, a man who can live in an apartment like that, is a man people know isn't afraid of anything."  
  
Despite the man's patronizing attitude, he had a point.  
  
He wasn't afraid of the apartment.    
  
He was more afraid of not being able to give his children a place they can call home for the few meager hours the courts in King County deigned to allocate him.  
  
"I'm Rick.  Rick Grimes," Rick said as he held out his hand.  
  
"Name's Philip, as you've probably already guessed," he said as he shook Rick's hand, squeezing just a tad too firmly, quietly asserting his dominance, "but people have taken to calling me Governor 'round here.  Don't know why."  
  
"Because you told us to!" Glenn exclaimed annoyed by the brash man.  
  
"Maybe its because they look to me for advice, for when they need help," Philip continued.  
  
"No we don't," Maggie blurted out.  "You keep buttin' in everybody's business."  
  
"I'm sort of the 'go to' guy, dare I say, their leader, the conductor of this train we call home," he finished, entirely too pleased with himself.  
  
"No you're not," Dale gritted out.  "It's _my_ building!"  
  
With that Dale walked away muttering about egomaniacal office workers.  
  
"And don't you worry Dale!" Philip called out to his retreating form, "I'll make sure the boxes get returned and our new tenant is all settled in."  
  
"We have it under control _Governor_ ," Daryl sneered as he walked by.  "You go on now and do whatever it is ya all do."  
  
"Nonsense, this is what I do.  So Rick," Philip said, as he walked alongside the stairs with him, while Daryl grumbled, "you play golf?"  
  
"No, never had the chance to," Rick shrugged.  
  
"That's good, that's good.  So I'll see you up on the roof in the mornings on the weekends, to hit a few balls," the 'Governor' said, despite Rick's reply.  
  
"But I don't play…the roof?" he exclaimed.  
  
"Damn fool hits golf balls off the roof every fuckin' Saturday morning," Daryl muttered.    
  
"You hit…but don't they, ya know, hit people walking 'round down there?" Rick cringed.  
  
"You know, golf is an old sport.  It was played by kings and the aristocracy," the tall man continued.  "They say it goes as far back as Roman times and that it was played in China.  It was known as Chuiwan there.  Isn't that right Glenn?"  
  
"I don't know," Glenn bemoaned.  "For the last time, I'm Korean!"  
  
Rick knew this kind of man, the Governor.  
  
They had a soundtrack playing in their head and nothing could get through it.  It didn't matter how many times you changed the channel, it was still the same song.  
  
"I don't play golf, don't like golf, don't plan on ever playing golf and I'd rather be pole-dancing to Taylor Swift than play a game that makes men wear funny looking pants," Rick stated matter-of-factly.  
  
Everyone in hearing distance stopped and looked back, Michonne giving him a small smile and a wink, while Daryl quietly chuckled, and the Governor?  
  
Why he didn't even miss a step.  
  
"That's great Rick.  So I always tee off Saturdays, about 8 AM, that's in the morning."  
  
"Wouldna' known that if you hadn't clarified it," Rick laughed, while turning to address Daryl.  "I wish we could sneak off and have a cubano."  
  
"Da hell is that?" Daryl burst out.  
  
"Ah baby brother," Merle taunted while shaking his head, "and you say I know nothin.' It's a damn cigar dummy!"  
  
After Daryl's response, Rick marked off another tally.  
  
  
  
  



	4. Coffee in the apocalypse

 

 

  
“Who in tha fuckin’ hell is this?” Merle asked as he pulled one of Rick’s family photos from a box.  
  
After having returned all the harried women’s possessions back to her Chevy pick up, apologizing again, eyeing the sandwich shop wistfully while everyone was talking about how they made the best hoagies but not stopping to let Rick find out for himself how great those fabulous hoagies were and then emptying his Ford truck, the one sans dingle bells and crushed red velvet, and bringing all his boxes up to his new home, everyone thought it would be a wonderful idea to stay and help him unpack.    
  
Actually they insisted that they help him unpack, saying it was the neighborly thing to do and all, the ‘although getting to nose around in your personal life’ part unspoken.  
  
The funny thing was, Rick didn’t seem to mind too much.  
  
“That’s ma family,” Rick replied, glancing at the photo and going back to the task at hand.  
  
“I know it’s yer family.  I see ya’ right there,” Merle angrily pointed to the picture, holding it up for all to see.   
  
“So why’d you ask if you already knew?” Andrea asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
“Cuz look at ‘im.”  He held the photo up.  “He looks all clean and shit.  I wuz askin’ who the hell this wuz not cuz I didn’t know who it wuz, but cuz I _did_ know and he don’ look like the guy in this here picture no more.”  
  
Rick scratched the beard he was currently sporting after running his hand through his longer than usual locks.  
  
He had to admit that he had let himself go a bit since Lori and he started going through all the misery and drama their marriage had become that led up to the eventual separation.  
  
Michonne plucked the photo out of Merle’s hands, “you’re so pretty here.  Then again, I like a man who’s a little rough around the edges.  Just don’t let that thing on your face get anymore wooly.  Your kids are adorable, by the way,” she smiled as she put the framed picture up on the mantle.  “There.”  
  
Rick sighed as he looked at the photo, while Michonne and Andrea were pointing at Judith and whispering.  
  
Even now, away from their home, even in another county, he could still see Lori looking down disapprovingly upon him.  The only thing that could make his life complete now was if Merle were to uncover the…  
  
“Yer a cop!?” Merle exclaimed.  
  
The picture of him and Shane in their deputy uniforms.  
  
“Yes, Merle, well I was a sheriff deputy for King County, out by Cynthiana, in that picture.  Now I’m a police officer for the Atlanta P.D.” Rick sighed.  Somehow he knew this would have eventually come up and Merle would be upset by it.  
  
“I know this asshole,” Merle said.  Daryl came to stand by his brother to look at the photo.    
  
“Yeah, I ‘member him too,” Daryl said, his lips curling as if he had just tasted something particularly sour.  
  
Shane tended to have that effect on people.  
  
“He arrested me, ‘member that baby brother?” Merle grumped.  
  
“Ya deserved it but _shit_ , he was a piece of work,” Daryl muttered.  “You still friends with this prick?”  
  
“Um, that’s the guy who fooled around with my wife, the reason we split up,” Rick shrugged.    
  
“I’d say we were both fucked by this guy, huh?” Merle quipped.  
  
Sometimes Merle was downright intuitive and thoughtful.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell Daryl!  We have a fuckin’ cop across the hall from us!” Merle hollered, starting to pace and getting more and more agitated by the moment.  “You gonna bust me for wantin’ to light up every now and then?  Or fer all ma’ other activities tha’…I’m not gonna talk ‘bout right now…maybe I should jus’ stop talkin,’” Merle muttered while stepping away from the box.  
  
“Look Merle,” Rick said purposely as he walked up to the man, “we have a saying in law enforcement.  It’s just as true now as a city cop as it was as a deputy in a podunk town.  You know what that is?”  
  
“We always get our man?” Merle said petulantly.  
  
“No Merle tha’s the Canadian mounties,” Rick sighed.  “We say, ‘don’t piss in your own pond.’  Do you know what that means?”  
  
Merle looked at Rick in confusion, “but what if you gotta go?”  
  
However, _most_ of the time, Merle was on the opposite side of the planet when it came to being intuitive and thoughtful.  
  
“No dumbshit!” Daryl shouted as everyone stopped taking things out of boxes to watch the interaction between the brothers and the new guy.  “It means he ain’t gonna snitch on you cuz ya’ live next door.”  Daryl turned to Rick and whispered, “tha’s what it means, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick laughed.  “It means Merle, that I’m not gonna bother you.  Unless its somethang extreme,” and before Merle could get out another word, Rick clarified, “that means, for the most part I’ll leave you alone, unless you decide to grab a rifle, go out on top of the roof and start shootin’ people in the streets, in which case I’ll be obligated to tackle ya’ to the ground and handcuff ya’ to the nearest object.”  
  
“Kinky,” Michonne teased.  
  
Beth turned to Maggie in earnest with a big mischievous smile on her face.  “Where do you keep daddy’s shotgun?”  
  
“No Bethy!  Bad Bethy!” Maggie chastised, Beth walking back to her box in a huff.  
  
“Ya’ walked into that one,” Daryl whispered into Rick’s ear, as he leaned in right behind him.  
  
And why that made every single nerve ending in his body light up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller center in winter, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him, but there it was.  
  
He hoped to God he wasn’t blushing.  
  
“Where do you want this office stuff?” Carol asked as she peered into the box with his desk supplies.  
  
“I’m gonna use that desk in the corner over there,” Rick pointed to an antique-washed farmers table that had been converted for office use.    
  
“You’re not gonna use the room in back for your office, make it inta’ a man cave or somethin?’” Philip asked befuddled.  “I’d put a barcalounger in there ma’self, maybe a wide screen television, a fish tank, with those tropical fish or maybe somethin’ more excitin’.  You like piranha?”   
  
Piranha?  
  
“No, that’ll be my kids room for the weekends,” Rick replied.    
  
“Of course,” Carol smiled as she passed the photo.  “Your son is so handsome.  Sophie would love to meet him.”  
  
Piranha?  
  
“Sophie?” Rick asked, shaking his head clear.  
  
“My daughter, she’s twelve.  Duane doesn’t like to hang out with her since he’s in high school now.”  
  
“And who’s Duane?”   
  
“That’s Morgan’s boy,” Maggie said.  “He lives in 5A, next to Daryl.  Duane’s fifteen.”  
  
That answered the question about kids then.  It sounded like Carl would have some people his age to hang out with and not just his father.  “Any others?”  
  
“There’s Andre, my little one, he’s three,” Michonne said tenderly.  “I bet when Judith gets a bit older, she’ll be running him around.”  
  
Of course she will, if she’s anything like her mother.  
  
Hopefully, she won’t put _his_ balls in a jar like Lori did.  
  
“There’s my step-nieces, Lizzie and Mika,” Sasha piped in.  “We live on the sixth floor, right across from these two,” she said as she pointed to Michonne and Andrea.  “They’re ten and eleven.”  
  
“Step-nieces?  Who exactly do you live with?” Rick asked.  
  
He was going to need a map and a spreadsheet to keep track of everyone.  
  
“My brother, Tyresse.  He was married to Karen, their step-mother.  Well, he still is, since she’s gone now and it was never made official.”  
  
“Dead?”  
  
“No, _gone_.  Just gone.  Got up one day, took all her stuff and disappeared.”  
  
“Wait a sec,” Rick started.  
  
“Oh let me,” Andrea stepped up.  “Once upon a time, there was this man named Ryan Samuels who married this woman, Elizabeth and they had two _beautiful_ daughters, Lizzie and Mika.  But tragedy struck when Elizabeth…”  
  
“You tell this story often?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yes.  It’s _fascinating_.  Now hush and let me tell it,” Andrea admonished.  “So, tragedy struck when Elizabeth died in a terrible accident.”  
  
“Car?” Rick supplied.  
  
“No, she fell off a chair at home, hanging a potted plant, broke her neck,” Andrea said distractedly.  “Which is weird when you think about it.”  
  
“Falling off a chair and breaking your neck?” Rick said.  
  
“Pfft.  No silly, _no one_ hangs potted plants in their home anymore,” she huffed.  “So Ryan is left a widower but decides to remarry about a year later.  That’s where Karen comes in.  She became their step-mother through marriage.  But tragedy strikes, _again_ …”  
  
“Another domestic accident?” Rick replies awestruck.  
  
“No, not in the home.  He fell through the ice.  Froze to death before they recovered his body.”  
  
“Obviously not in Georgia,” Rick supplied.  
  
“Well obviously.  So, Karen is now the widowed mother to two girls, then she meets Tyresse.  They get married, and then about six months in, he comes home to find all her clothes and personal affects gone.”  
  
“Wow.  That’s…that...that sounds like the plot from the Omen movies,” Rick blurts out.  
  
Everyone nodded their heads in unison.  
  
“I know it’s weird,” Sasha started, “but it happens, right?”  
  
That was a lot of ‘accidents’ in one family.  
  
“Ya’ sure Karen took off.  Could there have been fowl play?” the cop in him queried.  
  
“I’ve seen her post selfies on her Facebook,” Maggie interjected.  “She’s fine.”  
  
“So you get to have the kids on the weekends?  Today’s Saturday,” Carol asked slightly bewildered.  
  
“Like I said before, she’s not releasin’ ‘em to ma’ care until she sees the place,” Rick griped.  
  
The real problem was _when_ exactly Lori decided to come see the place for herself.  
  
“That fuckin’ blows,” Daryl grumbled.  
  
“I can babysit your daughter!”  Beth jumped in.  “I’d love to.  I wouldn’t even charge you.”  
  
“That’d be great,” Maggie interjected, “give her something’ ta do.”  
  
The porn soundtrack with the cheesy 70’s music started up in his head again while envisioning the movie starring the sex-starved father giving a ride home to the hot and horny babysitter.  
  
It was terribly cliche.  
  
“Sure I think that would be great,” Rick coughed.  “But I insist I pay you.”  
  
“Hey, even better!” Glenn exclaimed while adding under his breath, “now she won’t hit us up all the time.”  
  
He planned on spending every minute with his daughter, but the thought of taking Carl somewhere, just the two of them, sounded _wonderful_.  
  
“What?!” Merle shouted again while rifling through the box titled BATHROOM.  “No curlin’ iron?  I thought fer sure…”  
  
There was a round chorus of “Shut the Fuck up, Merle!”  
  
The tally marker in Rick’s head was currently going mad with input.  
  
“Ya’ thank I actually want ma’ hair looking’ like this?” Rick chuckled.  
  
“Oh look at this!” Beth squealed.  “It’s so pretty…and so soft.”  Rick looked over and saw Beth cuddling one of Lori’s cardigans against her cheek.  
  
“How’d _that_ fuckin’ get in there?” Rick asked as he walked over.  
  
“Somethin’ about you we don’t know?” Sasha teased.  
  
“Do tell,” Michonne said as she stretched against the couch, an impish smile upon her face, “any other frilly things in there?”  
  
“God, ya’ people need a fuckin’ life.  Leave the man be!” Daryl yelled.  
  
“Yeah, Daryl’s right,” Glenn interjected.  “What Rick wants to wear is his business.”    
  
“It’s not mine.  Its Lori’s,” Rick growled while he picked up the cardigan.  It had delicate pearls stitched upon the light pick cashmere.  Lori had said she loved the pink because it was more of a blush, the color barely noticeable.  So Rick had surprised her with it for Valentine’s Day one year, probably the last genuine smile he had managed to put on her face.  
  
He looked at everyone when he was done fingering the ridiculously soft fabric.  
  
“That’s so sweet!” Carol crooned, looking like she was about to cry.  
  
Okay, he might have said that last bit out loud.  
  
“Ah!” Merle crowed, “you plan on _spoilin’_ it with a pearl collar of it’s own, ain’t that right Officer?!”  
  
Everyone turned in disgust to Merle, Beth covering her ears and saying “Ew!”  
  
“It don’t fit Lori no more.  She had it stuffed in the closet.  I don’t know how it got here, but if you like it, you can have it Beth,” Rick said as he handed it back to the young girl.  “Someone who’ll appreciate it should have it.”  
  
“Really?” she whispered, looking up at Rick with impossibly large eyes.  “Oh my God!  Thank you!  Thank You!  Thank You!” she gushed, hugging Rick so tight, he was finding it very hard to breathe.  
  
She was holding on so tightly and squirming against his body, that it made a certain body part who hadn’t gotten attention in quite a long time suddenly sit up and take notice.  
  
“Bethy, let the man go.  His face is turning blue,” Maggie said.  
  
“That’s probably not the only thing that’s turning blue,” Glenn muttered.  
  
Finally letting go, Beth pulled the cardigan on and twirled around the room, giggling madly.  
  
“That was sweet Rick.  Thank you,” Maggie smiled.  
  
“Hey I meant to ask, ya’ said before ya’all are both engaged?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Glenn nodded.    
  
“When’s the weddin?’”  
  
“Actually, it’s funny that you should ask.  It’s next Saturday.  At ma’ daddy’s farm.  It’s not too big an affair,” Maggie replied off-handedly.  
  
“Not too big?!” Glenn scoffed.  “Five-hundred people and counting.  Not too big, she says.”  He started to count off on his fingers, “the whole town where she grew up will be there, everyone here, and then there’s my family who are coming from all over, including the homeland.”  
  
“Thar’ all comin’ all the way from China ta see ya’ get hitched?” Merle asked.  
  
Glenn groaned.  “I’m not Chinese…you know what?  Never mind.  Yes, they’re all coming from China, okay?” Glenn said, clearly annoyed with the man.  
  
“I knew it.  Always sayin’ ya’ were Korean,” Merle muttered.  
  
Daryl was about to open his mouth when Merle looked up.  “I know, I know.  Shut the fuck up Merle.”  
  
“I’m so excited.  Evrythin’ is gonna be _so perfect_!”  Andrea and Carol came to sit down while Maggie started to talk about the wedding.  “They’ll be lots of flowers, Cherokee roses, and we have the gazebo all repainted and there’ll be dancing and we got Bob doing the barbecue…”  
  
Everyone stopped talking when they heard an uncommon squeal coming from Michonne.  
  
“Oh my god!”  Michonne jumped up excitedly.  “Look!  Look!”  
  
Michonne held up several vinyl LPs, her face glowing as if it were Christmas morning.  “The Supremes, with the fabulous Ms. Diana Ross, the Four Tops, the Temptations, Marvin Gaye.  I’m in heaven,” she sighed as she started to pull LPs out of the box enthusiastically.  
  
“Should I be jealous?” Andrea laughed.  “You wanna be alone with the records?”  
  
“Man, I haven’t seen LPs in ferever,” Daryl said wistfully as he walked over and sat down on the floor to look through the collection.  
  
“The man loves Motown,” Michonne purred as she held an album lovingly to her chest.  “I knew you had soul when I first saw you.”  
  
At least Lori didn’t get _that_ in the divorce.  
  
The soul, that is.  
  
There were some days that he felt like she had.  
  
Today was not one of those days.  
  
“Where’s yer turntable at Rick?” Daryl asked eagerly.  
  
Walking over to the box marked FRAGILE, Rick pulled out an older stereo system, still in good shape, with a turntable, the receiver and two small speakers.  
  
“I upgraded the speakers to the new ones, cuz ya’ get better sound without room size cabinets,” Rick said.  
  
Daryl and Philip, surprisingly, started to set up the stereo, when the three young men from before entered the apartment.  
  
“Hey!  What’re you guys doing here?  Didn’t you all just leave for work,” Sasha asked.  
  
“Yeah, well,” Gareth smiled in embarrassment, “Starbuck’s central went off-line and they told us all to lock up and go home since we couldn’t sell anything for the rest of the day.  It’ll be back up by tomorrow.  But hey!  Before we left, we made coffee and brought it home, knowing everybody would probably want one.”  
  
“Ya’ got ma’ double decaf skinny Vanilla Latte?!” Merle shouted.  “I don’ like no other shit.”  
  
“ _That_ , is a serious coffee my friend,” Philip said as he lay a hand on Merle’s shoulder.  
  
“Damn fuckin’ straight,” Merle huffed.  
  
“Yes Merle,” Gareth sighed as he handed the coffee over, “I still remember what happened last time when I didn’t get you the right coffee.”  Leaning over conspiratorially to Rick, Gareth whispered, “seriously, getting threatened with a machete is _not_ okay.”  Smiling again, “I wasn’t exactly sure what you liked, but I do know my coffee and I’m pretty good at reading people so I made you a single shot Mocha with a splash of hazelnut.”  
  
Offering the coffee to Rick, he thanked the young man and took a sip and sighed, a contented smile slowly spreading on his face.  
  
Gareth surely knew his coffee because that was _the_ best damn mocha he had ever had.  
  
“It’s what I do,” Gareth winked.    
  
He then proceeded to point out which cups were whose when Marty handed Daryl his cup but tripped over the rug while doing so, sending the cup flying through the air and landing all over Beth’s new, technically Lori’s old, cardigan.  
  
Beth peered down at the ruined garment and looked like she was about to cry.  
  
“Ah damn.  I’m sorry Beth,” Daryl said sadly, trying to pacify the young woman.  
  
“I never get to have nice things,” she pouted.  
  
“I’ll buy you something nice sweetie,” Rick said to comfort her, hearing Lori’s faint voice in the background, mocking him once again for wanting to make people happy.  “It’s like I gave it to ya’ and then ya’ didn’t even get to enjoy it.”  
  
Beth looked up and smiled.  “You will?  Oh thank you!!!  Thank you!!!” she squealed while hugging him tightly again.  
  
Where was a rolled up newspaper when you needed one.  
  
“Oh Rick.  Ya’ don’t have to do that,” Maggie said.    
  
“Yeah man,” Glenn agreed.  
  
“He said he wanted to buy me something nice,” Beth growled in a voice that made him think her head would start spinning around on her shoulders, while levitating off the bed and snarling the word “Priest!”  
  
“So wait, you said all the Starbucks are closed.  Like _everywhere_?” Glenn asked.  
  
“Yeah dude.  Like everywhere, everywhere,” Alex stated.  
  
“But all the other coffee houses are open, right?” Maggie asked.  
  
Gareth turned serious for a moment.  “There are no other coffee houses in all of Atlanta.  They’re all Starbucks.”  
  
“Seriously?” Andrea said.  
  
“I never joke about coffee,” Gareth intoned rather intensely.  
  
“You know, I never thought about it, but you’re right,” Glenn said.  “There _are_ no other coffee houses.  Not a single stand.”  
  
“So there’s no coffee to be had in all of Atlanta right now,” Sasha said, sipping her double Latte, holding the cup to her chest protectively.  
  
“Nope.  All closed for today,” Gareth reiterated.  
  
“I hope no one saw you enter the building with these then,” Glenn laughed.  “They’ll be banging down our door, wanting the last of the coffee.”  
  
“I made sure no one saw us,” Gareth said seriously.  
  
“Joke guys,” Glenn sighed.  “Geesh, lighten up.”  
  
“It’s like an apocalypse.  A coffee apocalypse,” Maggie proclaimed, saluting everyone with her Almond Mocha.  
  
“Dudes!  You know what that means?!” Alex said excitedly while giggling.  “We would be like _gods_ in a coffee apocalypse!”    
  
“Maybe we’d finally get laid,” Marty muttered.  
  
“There’s not _nearly_ enough coffee for that,” Andrea scoffed.  
  
“Dude!  You’d let some chick trade her virtue for a double mocha?” Alex asked in surprise.  Then with a smile, he high fived Marty “Fuckin’ A!”  
  
“Well thankfully its only coffee or we might have to resort to cannibalism in this new apocalypse,” Sasha said as she sipped her drink.  
  
“Dudes, I could never eat people,” Alex said forlornly.  
  
Rick wondered if Alex thought he would cease to exist if he didn’t utter the word ‘dude’ at least once every five minutes.  
  
“I mean, seriously, why would anyone prepare a human for consumption when you can go get a Billy Burger for five dollars,” Alex said.  
  
“Or man, one of those meatball subs at the sandwich shop downstairs.  God those are so good,” Glenn moaned, his eyes closed in contemplation of said sandwich.  
  
“I love the pastrami melt,” Andrea said wistfully.  
  
“Personally my favorite are the ribs over at Bob’s Bob-B-Q man.  Those are _choice_!” Gareth smiled.  
  
“Bob’s Bob…Bob-B-Q?!” Rick laughed.    
  
“Don’t laugh.  He’s a bit expensive, I mean his ribs cost an arm and a leg, but so worth it,” Gareth nodded.  
  
Rick would give an arm and a leg right now for some food.  
  
Or just to get them to stop talking about it.  
  
“Yeah, Bob is cool.  He was this doctor but then he lost his license cuz of the you know,” Marty said as he make an up and down hand gesture movement.  
  
“He liked to jack off at work?” Rick asked, shaking his head.  
  
“No, the bottle!” Gareth laughed.  “So he opened a rib house.  He’s also sweet on Sasha.”  
  
Rick looked at the aforementioned woman, who was currently trying to find anything else more interesting to do.  
  
“This, to those of you that don’t know any better, and by that I mean all of you,” Michonne said as she pulled out The Four Tops, blew off the top and placed the LP on the turntable, “is the only way to listen to Motown.”  
  
‘Ain’t No Woman Like the One I Got’ started to play, as she brought the needle down, her face looking positively delighted as she swayed to the music.  
  
Rick looked around the room and watched as all the people gathered around, some talking about possible coffee shortages or about the stuff in his boxes and some just moving in time to the music.  
  
This was a good day.  
  
“Hey, you said somethin’ ‘bout sneakin’ off to get a sandwich?” Daryl asked, sneaking up on Rick again.  
  
“God yes!” Rick groaned.  
  
And just as he was about to take his new neighbor up on the offer, Maggie’s cell phone started ringing.  
  
“Guys!  Turn down that music!” Maggie said.  
  
Michonne carefully lifted the needle from the LP.  
  
“Daddy! Daddy!  Slow down…what?…No!… _No!_ …Oh daddy…Okay daddy…Okay, yeah…yes daddy…we’ll be right there, daddy.”  
  
Maggie ended the call and looked up at everyone, somewhat in a daze.  
  
“That was daddy,” she said.  
  
“Coulda fooled me,” Gareth snickered, everyone shushing the young man.  
  
“The farm’s been overrun,” Maggie said.  
  
“Overrun?” Glenn asked, as he turned to his fiancé.  
  
“Gopher infestation.  Of all the things that coulda ruined my perfect day, _God damned gophers_ came from under ground like the dead risen’ outta hell.  The whole damn place…ruined.  It’ll be awhile before the ground is repaired again.  There’s holes and channels,” Maggie sobbed as she turned eyes starting to fill with tears up at everyone.  “My perfect wedding is ruined.  I feel like I’m in a bad horror movie,” her lower lip quivered.  
  
“Oh Mags,” Glenn said sadly while everyone was quiet out of respect, not knowing what to say to comfort the distraught bride-to-be.  
  
Then Maggie jumped up.  “We gotta go!”  
  
“Why?  Can’t Hershel handle the problem?” Glenn said.  “He has insurance…”  
  
“We all gotta go,” Maggie got up and started corralling people to get going.  
  
“Uh…why?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Daddy’s been trapping the fuckers for the past thirty-six hours.  He’s not thinkin’ clearly,” she trailed off.  
  
“Maggie?” Glenn asked warily.  
  
“Daddy’s got all the gophers locked in the damn barn.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Dude!  So not Caddyshack!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for nothing in advance.
> 
> Except possibly to gophers everywhere.
> 
> Maybe PETA.

  
  
  
  
After having gotten the call from her father, Maggie rushed them all out the door while telling everyone to get their firearms and meet her downstairs.  
  
Rick was now obligated to let them know, as an officer of the law (and he really didn’t want to remind them of that), that he wasn’t so sure the lot of them running out to a farm to kill a bunch of ‘damn bastard gophers,’ Maggie’s words, not his, was such a good idea.  
  
Glenn told him not to worry, the farm was out of his jurisdiction so Rick decided to let it drop.  
  
Daryl and Merle had come running out of their apartment with a duffel bag and a large crate.  
  
Rick noted Daryl was also carrying a crossbow.  
  
Rick yelled out that he would run back in and grab his Python just as Beth had run back up the stairs with Maggie.  
  
“You gotta snake?” the young girl giggled.  
  
“I gotta snake right here for ya sweetheart,” Merle leered as he readjusted his pants, Beth covering her ears and saying “Ew!”  
  
“Merle!  Shut the fuck up!” Daryl yelled as Rick ran in and came back out with his .357.  “It’s a gun sweetie,” Daryl whispered to Beth.  Turning to the girl’s sister, he said, “don’t have to get ammo, Maggie.  We got everythin’ we need right here.”  
  
On the way out the lobby, Sasha asked Dale if he wanted to come with them but the man replied, “no, I like my Karma right where it is but you guys go have fun.”  
  
Everyone had gathered downstairs to decide who was going to travel with who.  It was only Rick and Daryl who ended up in the back of Andrea’s Mercedes Benz with her and Michonne after Glenn and Maggie managed to drag Beth away despite the girl’s protests of her sitting on Rick’s lap.  
  
Rick had insisted they stop off and pick up something at the Billy Burger drive thru while Daryl backed him up on the matter.    
  
They were both _starving_.  
  
Andrea caved in only after telling them not to get any shit on her special Italian leather seats to which Daryl replied she wouldn’t have to worry about her special Italian leather seats if she had just bought American in the first place to which Andrea ended the conversation by telling Daryl he wouldn’t have to worry about getting anything on the special Italian leather seats because the burger would be shoved so far up his ass as to not cause a problem anymore.  
  
They both had agreed not to get a damn thing on the special Italian leather seats, so help them God.  
  
After having picked up two double bacon cheeseburgers, a Billy Burger delicacy if ever there was one, Rick thinking it was most assuredly the best tasting thing he had ever eaten in all his life, despite the fact that he had eaten one only two weeks ago and he had thought it merely okay then, he looked at Daryl, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he pointed to the burger.  “Fis mumphs phooh fmph.”  
  
Daryl, whose cheeks were also stuffed, swooned back at Rick, “Ah wuuvn foo hava faux.”  
  
“Hmmm hm,” Rick nodded back.  
  
Michonne turned around in the front seat and narrowed her eyes at both men.  “I’ll give you each one hundred dollars if you can tell me what the other said, _after_ you swallow of course.”  
  
Daryl visibly swallowed then rolled his eyes, “Didn’t ya hear him?  He said, ‘this is so good.’”   
  
“And he said back, ‘I love the special sauce,’” Rick replied, quite pleased with himself.  
  
Michonne sneered at the both of them, “I’ll catch you later.”  
  
Daryl smiled at Rick as they clanked what was left of their burgers together in a mock salute, careful not to get anything on the upholstery since neither of them wanted to pick pickles and lettuce out of a place where pickles and lettuce had no right to be.  
  
Rick started to wonder if maybe Daryl and him shared the same brainwaves.  
  
And just as he had finished the last of his Billy Burger, they turned onto the road that would lead them to the Greene family homestead.  
  
It was a lovely place.  Rolling pastures, a windmill in the foreground.  The forest could be seen surrounding the acreage.  Michonne pointed out that there was a creek that ran along the property lines.  
  
It looked wonderful, if it hadn’t been for the trails of raised earth all over the grass surrounding the old farmhouse and beyond.  It was as if someone had taken hand grenades and bombed various points around the property.  
  
“This place has been in Maggie’s family for one hundred and sixty years,” Michonne started.  “That girl was really looking forward to marrying Glenn here just like Hershel had married her momma before.”  
  
As they drove up to the farmhouse, Rick observed an elderly gentleman with a white ponytail, looking very distressed as he nodded his head back and forth at a very agitated Maggie.  
  
Rick got out of the car, followed by Daryl and the girls.  He looked back and noticed everyone else getting out of either Philip’s large SUV or Gareth’s Prius.  
  
Of course he would drive a Prius.  
  
The thing probably ran on coffee.  
  
A distraught Maggie walked up to Rick, “this is my daddy, Rick, Hershel Greene,” she said in way of introductions.  
  
The elderly man, Hershel, shook Rick’s outstretched hand.  “Sorry this couldn’t be under better circumstances,” he sighed.  
  
Daryl, who had been standing next to Rick, asked Hershel what the hell was going on.  
  
“I just couldn’t…the pest control men…they said…they said,” Hershel tried to continue as he grabbed his head in hand, Maggie and Beth putting a hand on either of his shoulders.  “I just _couldn’t_ let them do what they were gonna do.  Maybe if there was a gopher refuge somewhere, where they could take them.  But they kept on insisting they were a danger to the populace and the other farms and then they promised they would be merciful…”  
  
“Daddy?” Maggie said.  “Tell them what you were hollering ‘bout on the phone to me earlier.”  
  
“So I trapped ‘em…trapped ‘em all, in the barn.  I just couldn’t bring myself to have them killed.  These _varmits_ , they may be animals, but they have families, just like we do,” Hershel whined as he looked pleadingly up at Rick and then the others.  
  
“Daddy.  If there were this many to have caused this big a problem, they have to be put down.  This is dangerous,” Maggie implored of her father, looking at Rick as if he could reason with the man.  
  
“But its not right!” Hershel sobbed angrily.  
  
“Dude, Santa is so sad,” Alex said dismally.  
  
“Not this again.  I’m _not_ Santa,” Hershel grumbled out.    
  
“Alex, sssh!” Gareth whispered to his brother.  
  
Everyone turned as one to look at the two young men, Gareth nodding his head back and forth and holding his hands up in surrender.  “I swear, I’m not really sure if we even share the same DNA.”  
  
Rick had to wonder about that too.  
  
Everyone looked to Rick to see what he could do to diffuse the situation.  
  
Why they had all decided to relegate Rick to the role of the one to do the diffusing, he wasn’t entirely sure.  
  
He also wondered if the free ‘spay and neuter your cat’ program, cats being the natural predator to rodents such as gophers, was such a good idea in the long run.  
  
“Maybe one of us should take a look at the barn,”  Rick said, as he addressed Hershel.  “Assess the threat.”  
  
“I don’t know iff'en you want to open those doors, son,” he said.  “I have them padlocked for a reason.”  
  
“There a way up there?” Rick asked, his hands on his hips.  
  
“Yeah, the hayloft!  Maggie and I used to sneak up there to,” Glenn stopped when he saw the look Maggie’s father shot him.  “To…read…Bible verses and…stuff.”  
  
“It’s okay sweetie,” Maggie said.  “Daddy knows we used to sneak up there to have sex.”  
  
Marty snickered, “sex with the farmer’s daughter up in the hayloft.  Sounds a little too cliche for me, bro.”  
  
“Shut up.  You’re making Santa… _Gah_!  I mean, _Hershel_ pissed off,” Gareth whispered angrily.  
  
Rick looked over at Daryl, not having to look far as he was standing right next to him, once again.  They nodded to each other, as if Daryl already knew all of Rick’s plans and what he wanted him to do.  Facing Glenn, he said, “you’re going up there with us too.”  
  
“I’m jus’ gonna stay back here if ’s all the same to you,” Merle said anxiously.  
  
“Like I’d want you stompin’ around up there with us, ya damn fool,” Daryl muttered.  
  
Maggie brought Glenn a flashlight and the trio made their way up the ladder at the side of the barn.    
  
“Be careful,” Maggie said and kissed Glenn at the bottom of the rungs.  
  
“They’re damn gophers,” Daryl grumbled.  “Not like ’s a barn full of flesh eatin’ zombies or somethin.’”  
  
They climbed the ladder, one by one moving forward deeper into the hayloft, just stopping short of the ledge to look over into the bottom of the barn, which Hershel had said was made of concrete, which is why it made it the perfect place to trap them in the first place.  
  
Nowhere to burrow.  
  
“Guys? Does the floor look like its…moving?” Glenn whispered.  
  
All three peered down and noticed that the floor was indeed moving.  Rick could see scattered pairs of glowing red, beady eyes, all peering into the darkness.  
  
And as Rick adjusted his eyes to the dimness, he swore he could make out even more pairs of the aforementioned glowing red, beady eyes.  
  
“Shit!” Daryl exclaimed as he hit the floor.  “Psst!” he hissed at the other two, indicating that they needed to lay down next to him, both men getting down quickly and quietly.  “They can hear us,” Daryl whispered urgently.  “Shine your light, so’s we can see how many of them fuckers there are.”  
  
Glenn turned on the flashlight and ran the beam down into the dark depths.  
  
“Oh God,” Rick stuttered.  “This…this is…”  
  
“Like a fucking scene out of one of those stupid horror movies with the rats.  I’m not _fucking_ staying here,” Glenn lamented while scampering away, running out of the hayloft as quickly as his feet could carry him.  
  
“Shit, this is bad Rick,” Daryl muttered.  
  
The floor of the barn was covered from corner to corner with gophers, without a single break.  
  
Hundreds of gophers.  
  
Large gophers.  Small gophers.  
  
Fat gophers.  Thin gophers.  
  
And they were all looking up at the loft where Rick and Daryl were currently looking back down at them.  
  
“Yep,” Rick said, trying hard not to laugh.  “The old man’s been _pret-ty_ busy.”  
  
Daryl started to chuckle too.  “Man!  How’d that ole fart trap ‘em all?!”  Daryl turned around so he was laying on his side as he talked to Rick, who had also twisted around so he could listen to what the other man had to say.  “That crate I brought over’s full of birdshot.  The kind you kill rodents with.  Mostly 12 gauge, since everyone’s got their shotgun, Hershel’s got one too.  I even got some shotshells for your .357.”  
  
“You always carry spare birdshot so’s you can kill barns full of rodents,” Rick snickered.  
  
“Shut up,” Daryl teased not unkindly, “it’s for my business.  I’ll tell ya about it later.  Let’s get back down now and convince the old man what we gotta do.  He ain’t gonna like it but these critters can’t get outta here.  They’ll wreck the damn countryside.”  
  
“I hear ya,” Rick said as he looked back down.  “Hey!  I think one of ‘em just gave me a nasty sneer.”  
  
“‘M pretty sure that one right there gave me the finger,” Daryl bantered back.  
  
Both men started snickering again, as Daryl helped Rick up with one hand.  
  
Climbing down the ladder the two men rejoined the group, now in the midst of a heated discussion Glenn was currently having with his future father-in-law.  
  
“Hershel, this is not good.  There’s too many in there.  If those gophers were people, _that_ ,” Glenn pointed to the barn while yelling, “would be China!”  
  
“Whoa!” Michonne said as she looked at Merle skeptically.  “How come you didn’t make a Chinese joke just now?  He practically gift-wrapped it for you.”  
  
“That’s not what I was doing,” Glenn shook his head and then stopped.  “Yeah.  Merle?  What’s wrong with you?”  
  
Everyone stopped to look at the older Dixon brother.  He was pacing back and forth agitatedly, his hands rubbing up and down over his arms.  
  
“How bad’s it in there?” Merle asked quietly as he looked at Rick and Daryl who everyone just noticed had come back.  
  
“It’s pretty bad,” Rick sighed.  
  
“Jesus!  You got wall to wall fuckers in that there barn!” Daryl yelled.  “And what the hell’s wrong with you Merle?!?!  You’re actin’ like a damn girl!!”  
  
“Hey!” Andrea and Michonne shouted indignantly.  
  
“I never told ya ‘bout what daddy did to me, ‘fore you were even born,” Merle started.  “He decided not to use the belt one day, so’s…”  
  
“Excuse me, but I don’t think this is important right now,” Philip cut in.  
  
“Oh God.  Why’d ya bring him?!?!” Hershel groaned as he looked at Philip.  
  
“Are ya lettin’ them fuckers outta that barn?” Merle yelled.  
  
“Fuck Merle!  What’s gotten inta you?” Daryl hollered back.  
  
“Daddy locked me in the damn shed once!  With three… _three_ of them minions from hell!  They climbed inta my pants and I don’t wanna go inta detail ‘bout what they did in there baby brother,” Merle sulked.  “And now you're talkin’ ‘bout hundreds of 'em!  All wantin’ to get inta my pants.”  
  
“Aw,” Sasha pouted, “I actually feel sorry for him.”  
  
“Well, there not gettin’ inta my pants, I’ll tell you what,” Merle said determinedly as he started to pull off all his clothing, while standing before everyone completely naked.  “Now they can’t get inta my pants!  Take that you fuckers!!!”  Merle screamed at the barn.  
  
“Okay, and feeling sorry for the naked man time is over now,” Sasha scowled.  
  
This was the second time that day Rick had seen Merle naked.  
  
He expected the man to buy him dinner at some point in time.  
  
They all watched as Merle ran around the barn and farmhouse naked, screaming obscenities.  
  
“He has completely lost it,” Andrea said.  
  
“Doesn’t he get it that it doesn’t matter if he takes off his clothes, I mean, you know, they can get to him easier now!?” Glenn whispered to Daryl, who was looking at his brother.  
  
“Ya think he’d even listen,” Daryl sighed.  
  
Rick wondered, and not for the first time that day, if Daryl and Merle shared the same DNA too.  
  
Ignoring Merle for the moment, everyone looked back to Rick, especially Maggie, for someone to appease Hershel so the man could see reason.  
  
“Hershel, I know you don’t know me,” Rick said as he put one hand on the man’s shoulder and looked him directly in the eye.  “But this ain’t right.  This needs to be dealt with and you know this and I know this.”  
  
“Now I know what you’re saying makes sense Rick, but no.  Just _no_ , I know I’m right,” Hershel shook his head.  
  
Just then a gopher ran across the yard toward them, everyone screaming in surprise, the highest pitched scream of them all coming from Merle.  
  
“Fuck Merle!  You scream like a fuckin’ girl!” Daryl yelled.  
  
“Hey!” Sasha and Carol complained.  
  
Rick snagged the pole attached to the net the older man had used to catch all the rodents.  He quickly slammed the net down and trapped the scampering animal before it could run away.  
  
“Look!  Look at this Hershel,” Rick barked as he reached into the net, grabbed the thrashing gopher and held it up to the elderly man, “ _this_ is the face of a rodent…a…a _pest_.  Look at what it did to your farm!” Rick snapped as he waved the gopher around indicating the farm as a whole bringing it right back to Hershel’s face.  
  
Considering the wistful way Hershel was regarding the thing, Rick speculated he might be looking at the wild animal as if it had huge anime eyes with big curling eyelashes and rosy red cheeks.    
  
“It’s just so darn cute,” Hershel pouted.  
  
Rick turned the thing around to face him and looked it in the eye.  It was hissing and trying to claw Rick’s face off.  
  
He had to wonder if anyone should have happened upon this scene, what they would think of Rick, baiting the kindly old man with a captive rodent.  
  
And he then realized that sure as the sun rose everyday in the East, someone would capture him with the long pole with the net, stick him in a straightjacket and commit him faster than it took Merle to strip down to his birthday suit.  
  
“This is ridiculous!” Philip yelled.  “There’s no reasoning with the fool Rick.  We gotta take matters into our own hands,” he said as he paced back and forth in front of the padlocked doors.  
  
“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic,” Michonne smirked.  
  
“I can handle this,” Rick said, addressing the Governor directly.  “We’re not so far gone yet that we have to do anything too drastic.”  
  
“No, this has gone too far already,” he said.  
  
“If we open those doors,” Rick started talking more slowly, trying to calm Philip down, “they’ll all run out and scatter everywhere.  We have to keep them corralled, take ‘em out slowly.”  
  
Philip started muttering to himself as he continued to pace back and forth in front of the doors.  “Scattering everywhere…huh…”  
  
Everyone watched as the man became more agitated, Gareth in the background mouthing the words, ‘Drama Queen.’  
  
“Okay Philip,” Rick said, “we’ll open the door, one at a time, let a few out, take care of the problem…”  
  
“No!  This is about _right now_.  Your way is too slow,” Philip said harshly, a wild gleam in his eye.  
  
“I don’t understand.  We’re just gonna kill a few at a time, so we don’t have…”  
  
“ _Liar!_ ” Philip roared.  
  
“Dude needs a serious time out,” Alex muttered.  
  
“I’m…I’m…excuse me?” Rick said indignantly.  Rick looked at Daryl next to him, who shrugged back at Rick.  
  
The man was not firing on all cylinders.  
  
“Da Hell is wrong with you?” Daryl asked.  
  
After that, it seemed like everything just flew in slow motion.    
  
Philip took out his gun and shot the lock off the barn door (Rick sparing a quick thought as to who the idiot was that allowed that nut job to carry a gun in the first place) before both doors swung wide open, Rick yelling “ _No!!!!_ ”  
  
“Oh God!” Hershel wailed.  
  
Everyone, who had been loading their shotguns during Rick and Philip’s exchange, had pulled out their weapons and started firing, shooting as many of the gophers as they could as they spilled over each other in their escape from the barn.  
  
“Don’t let any of them get away!” Rick screamed.  
  
The air was filled with the sound of shotgun blasts, shells hitting the ground after being discharged, the squeals of the small animals as they were hit.    
  
Despite Rick being busy with shooting and killing the pests, he still noticed Merle hightailing it down the road (noting he would probably be in the next county by the time this was all through) and Hershel, crying on the ground, cursing the high heavens at the utter carnage unfolding in front of him.  
  
And he thought the Governor was a drama queen.  
  
The whole crazy thing had no sooner started, than it was all over, the hush that followed as everyone contemplated what they had been so unceremoniously forced to do.  
  
There were countless dead bodies lying all over the ground.  
  
Not one had been left alive.  
  
Which left Rick marveling at the fact that no one had shot each other accidentally, his new found friends possibly making the nightly news as some weird ritual mass suicide by shotgun.  
  
Everyone was covered in blood, brown fur and gopher gore.  
  
Rick thought if PETA ever got wind of this, they were all pretty much done for.  
  
Rick turned around quickly and yelled to Gareth’s group, “cell phones away now!  Don’t even think about it!”  
  
Half the group guiltily shoved their cell phones back into their pockets, while Marty was furiously deleting something on his.  
  
Rick grimly mumbled, “fuckin' youTube.”  
  
Merle was sitting on the ground in a daze, his clothes lying forgotten in a heap.  
  
“Fuck Merle!  Put your damn clothes back on,” Daryl shouted at the man in exasperation.  
  
Rick walked to the opening of the barn, peered inside, doing one more check.  There seemed to be not a one in sight.  
  
“Did we get them all?” Gareth called out.  
  
“Yeah, me and Daryl were keeping a sharp eye on the perimeter.  None got away,” Rick confirmed.  
  
Everyone stood still as a lone gopher made its way out of the barn, standing just outside of the doorway, staring back at all the people who wore the evidence of its clan’s slaughter.  
  
“It’s just a baby!” Carol called out.  
  
Everyone looked at the very tiny rodent, it sitting on its hind quarters and looking up with its chubby cheeks.  
  
Rick approached the small animal.  
  
“See Hershel?  All is not lost.  We can let this one go,” Rick smiled.  
  
When he turned back around, the thing launched itself at his face, grabbing on and holding on for dear life, which if Rick had any say in the matter, wouldn’t be for too much longer.  
  
Rick fell to the ground but before the thing could set its teeny tiny claws into his skin, someone had come up alongside him and hit the puny terror with something (that suspiciously looked like a severed gopher’s head) and the gopher had fallen off Rick’s face onto the ground.  Daryl swung his crossbow up and pulled the trigger, a bolt going through the small animal.  
  
“Dude, overkill much?” Alex scoffed.  
  
Rick looked up into Daryl Dixon’s face, the sun at his back, and growled, “is the fucker dead?”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed and held a hand out so he could haul him up off the ground, Rick patting his back, saying, “thanks, for having my back.”  
  
“Anytime, man.  Anytime,” Daryl nodded, both men regarding each other before Daryl turned on the group and starting yelling.  “Cuz these _asses_ were just standin' around while you were gettin’ your face eatin’ off!”  
  
Alex hissed to Gareth, “dude!  That would have gone so _viral_.”  Before Gareth could shush him, Rick threw a withering glare at the brothers.  
  
“Merle!  Put your damn clothes on!” Philip shouted, the tall man hunched over on the ground.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  You know.  The whole…heat of the moment.”  
  
Rick would have to address this at some point later but for now he just surveyed the wreckage, while patting the man on the back.  
  
Maggie was walking through the bodies, shooting every gopher that even so much as twitched, muttering ‘ _damn bastards_.’  
  
Hershel had at some point gotten up and looked at the mess his small patch of ground had become, the soil thick with blood.  
  
“Well, that’s over.  I’m goin' into the house for a drink.  Anyone want one is welcome to join me,” the man said as he made his way into the house.  
  
Hershel seemed to be taking it pretty well.  
  
Everyone started to gather in the living room, a kindly woman named Patricia yelling at everyone to get the hell back out until they at least ran themselves through a car wash.  
  
So instead, everyone gathered around the porch, passing around a bottle of Jim Beam.  Merle had, thankfully, put his clothes back on and seemed to be in better spirits.  
  
“I dunno what I’m gonna do,” Maggie said sadly, taking a rather long swig from the bottle when it came to her.  “The gophers are gone, but the place is still wrecked.  There’s no way we can get a place on such short notice and we got so many people coming and,” Maggie started to sob as she covered her mouth.    
  
Rick looked at the poor girl.  True he had only met her just a scant few hours ago, but he felt so bad for her (and yes, there was the specter of Lori laughing at him, making fun of how he always was a sucker for a sob story).  
  
He most definitely had a soft spot for the Greene girls.  
  
He remembered something one of the county maintenance guys he had come into contact with over the years, told him recently, something about a government run piece of property and thinking it could just work.  
  
Of course, she wouldn’t want that, would she?  
  
“I gotta an idea.  Don’t know if ’s still on the table but it’s worth a shot.  I have to call this guy ‘bout it.  But if it was okay…the property is plenty big, and it would be _perfect_.  The grounds are well manicured.  They’ve been well tended to.  It would be real cheap, practically nothing.  But, I’d have to call first,” Rick babbled nervously.  
  
“Rick?” Maggie said as she looked up, her face full of new found hope.  
  
“It’s a little unorthodox though,” Rick laughed.  
  
“Ah, that’s okay,” Merle piped up, “the Greenes are Christian.  They ain’t Jewish.”  
  
Rick’s mental tally drew closer to one hundred as everyone chimed in.  
  
He wondered if Shane was starting to itch down in his nether regions yet.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Because doing a MIke Tyson is not an acceptable form of retirement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter in the past week and cleaned it up yesterday, BEFORE the mid-season premiere. This was my plan for Tyreese all along.
> 
> Thought we might need a pick-me-up after that.

 

  
  
  
Rick woke to the sun shining in through the window of his new bedroom, never having pulled the green velvet curtains closed the night before, and someone knocking at his door.  
  
“God, what is it now,” muttered Rick, “badgers trapped in the basement…alligators in the laundry room?”  
  
Extricating himself from the ridiculously soft sheets (no doubt made of the highest thread count) and the warmest down comforter money could buy, he sat up, stretched and padded his barefoot way to the front door, clad only in his most threadbare, brown plaid flannel sleep pants and nothing else.  And it was indeed nothing else as he could not locate the box which held all his undergarments, which included socks, undershirts and briefs.  
  
Opening the door fully, he leaned against it while rubbing the sleep from his face, focusing on his neighbor across from him.  
  
“Hey,” Rick said as he smacked his lips together, running his hand over his bare chest.  
  
Daryl nodded, “morning,” and waved the bag he was currently holding at Rick.  
  
Rick noticed Daryl was carrying his crossbow, along with the aforementioned bag.  
  
“You go everywhere with that thing?” Rick asked as he pointed to the weapon.  
  
“Had to take it in ta get serviced.  Jus’ got back.  Got us breakfast,” he smirked as he held up the bag again.  “Thought you could use some.”  
  
“Breakfast in a bag?” Rick grinned.  
  
“Don’t be an _ass_ ,” Daryl said.  “’S from the san’wich shop downstairs.  Ham and cheese melts on waffles.  Damn things are addictive like fuck.”  
  
“Come on in,” Rick said as he stepped aside for his neighbor.  “I’ll put some coffee on.”  
  
“Don’t need to,” Daryl said as he leaned down and produced two coffee cups, the smell of strong coffee and vanilla wafting over.  
  
Breakfast, consisting of ham, cheese and waffles, which were all good on their own any day, and heavenly smelling coffee, delivered right to his door.  
  
Rick did an eternal “Yes!” in his head as he realized as considerate neighbors who seemed to have his best interest at heart went, he scored pretty high with someone like Daryl Dixon.  
  
“How did you carry the crossbow, the bag and the coffee?” Rick smiled as he took the cups from Daryl, the other man making his way into the apartment, looking around before seating himself at the garish couch.  
  
Daryl shrugged, (Rick accepting that was all the explanation he would no doubt get) before focusing his attention on Rick once again.  “I woke you,” he said matter-of-factly.  “Shit, ‘M sorry.  I should go.”  
  
“No, ’s okay,” Rick said as he put out his hand to stop Daryl from getting up from the couch.  “I needed to wake up ‘fore this anyway.  Gotta call that guy I know…for Maggie’s… _thing_.”  
  
“Yeah, she’s pretty broken up ‘bout it,” Daryl winced.  “Shitty, ya know?  She’s been planning this weddin’ forever.”  
  
Rick sat down on the big armchair opposite the couch and opened the bag.  “God, this smells good.”  He pulled the sandwich out of the bag and made note of the wrapper.  
  
It was always a good sign when the wrapper was soaked through in grease.  
  
Pulling back the paper, he bit into the meat and cheese laden waffle.  “Aah Gaa!  Ooom ’s foe hooom.”  
  
“It is good, innit it?” Daryl grinned before biting into his own sandwich.  After chewing and swallowing his bite, he looked at Rick again, cleared his throat and looked away.  “Iffen ya wanna get dressed, I can wait here.”   
  
“Yeah ‘bout that,” Rick laughed.  “I seemed to have misplaced, or lost, my…well… _one_ of my boxes.  I got my clothes, but not my…other stuff.”  Rick leaned over and whispered, “namely my underwear.  ‘M not wearing any right now.”  
  
“Huh,” Daryl huffed and stared into space for a minute.  “What’s this?” he asked, as he shook his head and pointed to the large glass jar full of colorful lollipops on the coffee table.  
  
“Oh that!”  Rick laughed.  “That was a gift from the guys at the station I used to work at.  I gotta bit of a sweet tooth.  Half the time I was walking ‘round with a sucker, or somethin,’ in my mouth,  so they got me that.  Shane’s idea probably,” Rick frowned.  “He teased me ‘bout it all the time.”  
  
“Ya always like to…,” Daryl sputtered and cleared his throat.  
  
“What can I say,” Rick shrugged, “Guess they call it oral fixation.”  
  
Rick watched as Daryl kept trying to get comfortable on the couch.  
  
“It’s awful, innit?” Rick asked as he pointed to the sofa.  “Comfy though,” Rick shrugged.  “So ‘bout yesterday.  What exactly is it you do?”  
  
“Le’s jus’ say I’m the first Dixon to ever actually do somethin’ legal while gettin’ to play ‘round with guns and shit,” Daryl smiled as he took a sip of coffee.  
  
Rick gave Daryl a sidelong look and raised one eyebrow.  “Oh?”  
  
“It was one of the times I was out huntin,’ and I comes across this group of fellers who was trying to shoot at some buck.  Helped ‘em to bag that damn deer.  After, they wanted ta pay me and I was like, okay.  So they paid me really well…like more money than I ever seen ‘fore.”  
  
Daryl took another bite of his sandwich and continued, Rick listening avidly as he too had taken a bite.  
  
“They called me back cuz they wanted to hunt wild boar and I’m thinkin,’ those _asses_ are gonna get themselves killed.  So I go’s with ‘em.  To show ‘em how to take down a boar the first time.  They all got pretty scared and start pissin’ in their pants when we actually found what it was we were huntin’ for in the first god-damned place.  That boar was like _six-hundred pounds_.  So I took the fucker out.  Killed it with the first shot.”  
  
“‘M guessing not with that,” Rick said as he pointed to the crossbow.  
  
“Shit no.  Was a revolver.”  
  
“Must’ve been a big revolver,” Rick nodded in awe.  
  
“Pretty much.  So then I start gettin’ calls from all their high falootin’ friends to go on these huntin’ expeditions.  Tha’s what they like to call ‘em.  I keep uppin’ my price.  Figure I’d do that ’til they start complainin.’”  
  
“So, have they complained yet?” Rick asked.  
  
“Hell no!” Daryl chuckled.  “Would you start bitchin’ at the guy who can damn well take down a six-hundred pound boar with a revolver?  These guys make seven figures every fuckin’ year, and ’s not cuz they’re stupid.  Just crap with a gun.  So’s I take these guys out on their weekends, even during’ the work week, fuckin’ CEOs of corporations, they can make their own damn hours, on these huntin’ expeditions,” Daryl making air quotes around the word ‘expeditions,’ “and I rake in enough money for two days of work outta of any given month so’s I, and Merle too, can live here pretty comfortable-like.”  
  
“Daryl the enterprising businessman,” Rick smiled.  
  
“Yep, taking yuppies’ hard earned dollars doin’ what I learned to do with my eyes closed,” Daryl smiled back.  
  
“Fuck these sandwiches are good,” Rick moaned after swallowing the last mouthful.  “Okay this’s officially the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth in the morning.”  
  
Daryl looked away and coughed.  
  
“When you gotta,” Daryl cleared his throat, “when you gotta go back to work?”  
  
“I work four-ten shifts Monday through Thursday so’s I’m off on Friday through Sunday.  Tomorrow mornin’ I gotta go back in,” Rick said as he took another sip of coffee, closing his eyes as he savored the drink.  
  
“You need help unpackin’ or whatever today?” Daryl asked.  
  
Rick looked at the few scattered boxes he had left in his apartment.  
  
“As much as I liked the unpackin’ party yesterday… _Fuck!_   Was that only yesterday?” Rick chuckled.  “We wouldn’t call everyone back in, would we?”  
  
“Fuck no!  But I could help.  It’ll be jus’ the two of us,” Daryl shrugged, then muttered.  “Get it done a lot quicker without all those dumb asses anyway.”  
  
Daryl brought him breakfast, with coffee, and wanted to help him finish unpacking.  
  
It was official.  
  
Daryl Dixon was the best neighbor.  
  
Ever.  
  
“After,” Daryl said off-handedly as he stood up with Rick, “we could check out those movies playin’ at the theatre down the street.  They’re always showin’ weird movies, older ones.  Do somethin’ not movin’ related or ya know…like killin’ gophers.”  
  
“Oh yeah?  What’s playin’ now?”  
  
“A Billy Jack movie marathon,” Daryl said.  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Rick smiled, Daryl giving him a smile in return.  
  
“Well, alright, le’s get ya moved in,” Daryl said.  “Maybe we’ll even find your missin' underwear.”  
  
And just as the two men were about to get down to the business of moving, then watching stupid movies for fun, they heard a large booming voice coming from the hallway.  
  
 _“Merle!  Put your damn clothes on!  My baby sister and my girls are here!”_   
  
That was a seriously loud voice if Rick had ever heard one.  
  
Somewhere a seismometer was going crazy.  
  
“Oh shit, Tyreese mus’ be up. He hates it when Merle goes ‘round naked,” Daryl winced.  
  
“Doesn’t everybody?” Rick snickered as he followed Daryl out into the hallway.  
  
Daryl and Rick make their way out of the apartment in time to catch a very large, very angry African-American man descend down upon Merle.  
  
“Now I told you to knock this shit off already Merle!  I know I warned you about it!” the man roared.  
  
Not only did Rick know for sure he had seen this man before, but unlike Joe just yesterday, he knew _exactly_ who this man was.  
  
“Hey!  You’re…you’re,” Rick stuttered as he looked at the broad, angry man.  
  
“What?  Oh great!” the man said as he threw his arms into the air, “another damn nudist!”  
  
“Hey now, Rick got his sleep pants on,” Daryl defended.  
  
Rick felt incredibly exposed at the moment, as he tried to cover his chest with his hands, finally having them settle around his mid-section.  
  
“Barely,” the man said as he looked Rick up and down while Sasha, along with Andrea and Michonne, who had stepped out of their apartments because of all the commotion, came running down the stairs to stand beside the enraged man.  
  
“Why hello Rick,” Sasha smiled, also looking Rick up and down.  He noticed Andrea and Michonne doing much the same as Sasha.  
  
He suddenly felt like the last popsicle for sale in an ice-cream truck on the hottest day of the year.  
  
“Merle!  Go put your damn clothes back on!” Daryl yelled.  
  
“Why’s I gotta when Rick is practic’ly naked!” Merle shouted back.  
  
“Oh, he’s okay,” Michonne purred.  
  
Now he felt like the last popsicle for sale in an ice-cream truck on the hottest day of the year.  
  
In hell.  
  
“This the guy you been talking about?” the man from upstairs, the one who had now walked right up to Rick and was pointing at his chest, addressed Sasha.    
  
“That’s Rick,” Sasha nodded.  “Be nice.  We like Rick.”  
  
“I heard about you. Sorry about that man.”  The man put his arm out.  “I’m Tyreese Williams.”  
  
“Oh God,” Rick said as he stumbled over his words, “Quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons.  Ninety-six wins in your fourteen year career with only forty-nine losses.  I heard you retired, man,” Rick finished as he tilted his head up at the man.  
  
“Oh joy, another true believer,” Sasha sighed.  
  
“Huh, _retired_.  The NFL benched me, man.  _Retired_ my ass.  Said I got one two many concussions.  Benched me permanently,” Tyreese huffed as he crossed his arms over his massive chest.  
  
Tyreese Williams!  Right upstairs from him!  
  
And here he was, half-naked in front of the man.  
  
“Thinking of doing anything in retirement?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, wanted to try prize fighting but Sasha said no,” Tyreese pouted.  
  
“Honey, retirement, as in when someone as dumb as your stubborn ass has as many concussions as your fool head does, means fishing, or basket weaving, not getting your damn head crushed in again!” she ended angrily.  “Now leave Rick be.”  
  
“I’ll be right back up,” Tyreese said to Sasha contritely.  
  
And with that, his sister walked back upstairs and into her apartment.  
  
Andrea and Michonne followed up as they both smirked at the men, the latter glancing back once at Rick and blowing him a kiss.  
  
As soon as the women were out of sight, Tyreese turned all his attention back onto Rick.  
  
“Look!  You gotta help me!” Tyreese pleaded as he gazed directly into Rick’s eyes, the large man holding onto Rick’s upper arms tightly, his own eyes shifting from side to side.  “You’re a cop?  That’s what Sasha said.  A cop, right?”  
  
“Um yeah,” Rick said, nodding his head.  
  
“I think my daughter Lizzie is trying to kill me,” Tyreese said intently.  
  
“Um,” Rick stuttered.  
  
He had nothing he could say in return.  
  
“Not this again Tyreese,” Daryl moaned.  
  
“I’Il pay you whatever man, you just gotta help me!” he said as he picked Rick up off the ground, shaking him slightly.  
  
“Um,” Rick stuttered again.  
  
And yet, he still had nothing.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell man!  Put Rick down!” Daryl groaned, this time his tone brooking no argument.  He had gone so far as to put his hand on the broad man’s shoulder.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, sorry,” Tyreese stuttered.  
  
“Go on back up,” Daryl said to the other man as he steered Rick back into his own apartment.  
  
“Please, just think about it,” Tyreese beseeched once again, while Daryl managed to get Rick over his threshold.  
  
And just like that, Tyreese’s face had changed.  
  
It had stopped looking so frantic and actually looked peaceful, then pleasantly surprised.  
  
“Oh you live here?” Tyreese said as he looked at the door Rick was being shoved into.  
  
“Oh God,” Daryl groused.  
  
“You must be the new guy.  I’m Tyreese Williams.  And you are?” Tyreese asked as he held out his hand to Rick.  
  
“Um,” Rick said.  
  
Rick picked at his brain for something to say.  
  
Yeah.  Still nothing.  
  
Daryl shut the door in the man’s face.  
  
“Tyreese’s a nice guy but he’s all fucked up man.  Best to stay away from him,” Daryl said.  
  
“I’d say one too many concussions was a god-damned understatement,” Rick chuckled.  “And seriously?  Prize fighting?”  
  
“Joe’s idea.  Somethin’ ‘bout a fight club.”  Daryl shook his head and smirked.  
  
“I gotta make that call ‘fore I forget,” Rick said as he made his way to his cell phone.  He located the number in his list and initiated the call, waiting for someone to pick up.  He got voicemail so he left a message.  “Hey Martinez.  It’s Grimes.  I think I have someone who might be interested in rentin' that space we were talkin' 'bout.  But we need it this weekend.  It’s a real emergency.  Please call me back.”  
  
When Rick was done with the phone call, he turned off his phone, set it down and turned to Daryl.  “I’m gonna go put some clothes on.”  
  
Daryl nodded.  
  
But before he could move toward his bedroom, he heard something bounce off his window.  “That a bird?” Rick asked puzzled.  
  
“Naw, it’s that damn ass, the Governor,” Daryl groaned.  “Everyone keeps tellin’ him his damn balls ricochet off the building across the street.  He don’t listen.”  
  
Rick ran to the window closest to his desk, threw it open, leaned out slightly and looked down at the people below before he felt something hit his head.  “Summabitch!” Rick growled.  
  
He came back in from the window and rubbed at his head.  “That fucker just got me with a damn golfball.  I got hit by a _golfball_!  On the _fuckin’_ fifth floor!”  
  
“Wanna hold 'im down while I hit 'im?” Daryl asked in jest.  
  
Running out the door, for the second time that morning, sleep pants and all, Rick made his way up the staircase to the rooftop access, Daryl close on his heels.  
  
When he exited the door, he had to stop before he marched up to Philip to reason with the insane man.  
  
There were several pieces of comfortable looking patio furniture scattered around.  In the middle of one circle, there was a small fire pit.  To his left, there was a covered garden, a trellis of ivy encircling it.  To his right, thankfully downwind, was a small enclave with cages filled with fluffy, white rabbits.  
  
“Rabbits?” Rick asked in confusion.  
  
“Tyreese.  They help 'im with…stuff,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
A sudden image of Tyreese petting one of the furry delights tenderly sprang into Rick’s mind.    
  
Images of Lennie Small came to mind too.  
  
Rick hoped it would have a happier ending.  
  
“Philip?” Rick said as he approached the tall man, getting ready to hit another shot off the building.  “Um…Governor?”  
  
“Why hello Rick!” Philip said as he stopped to greet him.  “Lovely morning.  Although, I had hoped you would dress for the occasion a bit better,” the man said with a frown.  
  
Being reminded of his attire, or lack of it, yet again, was getting a bit perturbing.  “Ya can’t do that Philip…Governor…uh, Philip.  Ya can’t keep hittin' the balls over the side like that.  Someone could get hurt.”  
  
“Yeah!  Rick already got hit by one of your _damn_ balls!” Daryl yelled.  
  
Philip looked up in confusion, seemingly deep in thought.  “I did?  How’d that happen?”  
  
“I opened the window, leaned out and it hit me,” Rick said, one hand on his hip.  
  
“Now you see right there, Rick,” Philip said as he canted in closer to Rick, towering over him, “do you know how many people fall out of windows every year because of leaning out of them?”  
  
“I dunno,” Rick shrugged, “’s not like it’s a national epidemic.”  
  
“No, Rick, it’s not.  Why?” the Governor said as he took another swing with his club, “because most people don’t lean out of their windows when they live on the fifth floor.”  
  
Philip sliced the ball, curving it to the right.  “So you see, Rick,” Philip continued, “I’m not the one putting people in danger here.  What if you fell out of that window?  What damage do you think a body your size could do when impacting the pavement?”  
  
Rick wasn’t sure what a body his size could do when impacting the sidewalk but he was starting to wonder what one the Governor’s size could do.  
  
Philip set another ball down.  “It’s just common sense Rick.  And perspective.”  He hit the ball, it going across the way, bouncing off the building and falling straight down.    
  
“My ball hitting you, may have in fact, very well saved your life,” Philip said as he got ready to hit another ball.  Before he did, he turned to Rick and smiled widely.  “you’re welcome.”  
  
Rick watched as the man hit the ball and it soared over the building, Rick running to the side (being careful not to lean over too much) to see where it would land.  
  
It struck the windshield of a Jeep Wrangler.    
  
A red one.  
  
The one in fact that belonged to one Shane Walsh.  
  
And there was Shane, looking everywhere to find out why a ball would hit (and not break thankfully) his window.  
  
Next to him was Lori.  
  
Rick looked down at his state of undress.  He thought about the amount of time it would take him to beat the couple entering the apartment building so he could get dressed and greet them in a manner that didn’t suggest how much their unannounced visit would affect him.  
  
Unless he knew how to bend time, it wasn’t going to work.  
  
He wondered what kind of distraction and how much time it could buy him if he conducted that experiment with the Governor’s body and the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to use the quarterback stats from one of the Falcon's QBs but hey! Surprise, none of the Falcons ever made it to the top 50, so this is TOTAL fabrication and unrealistic.
> 
> Not anything at all like fanfic, which is, you know, all real. ;P


	7. Wingmen and other flightless birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note. I'm not into Lori bashing per se, but the reality in this particular fic is that she's a wife who cheated on her husband with his best friend. Rick's divorce was nasty and he didn't get much in the aftermath. This was not an amicable separation so there will be animosity and sorry, but Lori does have to come across as the bad guy here.

  
  
  
  
Rick ran to the roof top access door as fast as his feet could carry him, Daryl following quickly behind him.  
  
“Rick!  What tha fuck is up?!” Daryl yelled behind him.  
  
“My wife…my _ex-wife_ …and Shane, they’re here!” Rick said anxiously as he tried to open the door.  “Why ain’t the fuckin’ thang openin?’” Rick yelled in frustration, pushing the door in.  
  
If he had his gun, he’d shoot the lock, so help him God.  
  
“Rick calm the fuck _down,_ ” Daryl said as he came up and opened the door.    
  
It apparently opened out.  
  
Rick cursed all fire door safety regulations everywhere.  
  
He ran down the stairs to the fifth floor, wishing in some far off place in his brain that he could be like Superman and fly around the earth, reversing its rotation so he could go back in time.  
  
“Please tell me Merle is somewhere else right now!” a panicked Rick pleaded with Daryl.  
  
He didn’t need Shane and Merle to get into it.  
  
“We’re good.  ‘Gilligan’s Island’ is on for the next hour.  He don’t come out til tha’s done,” Daryl said, Rick giving him a strange look.  “What?  He keeps watchin’ to see when they get off the damn island,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
They ran into his apartment, Rick slamming the door shut.  
  
“Probably have a few minutes ‘fore they get up here, you stall ‘em so’s I can get dressed,” Rick panted.  
  
“Right,” Daryl said.  
  
“Too late Rick,” a voice came from behind him.  
  
Rick cursed his inability to rotate the earth on its axis to turn back time.  
  
For there, in all her smirking, condescending glory, was his ex-wife, her arms crossed over her chest.  
  
And next to her was a smug looking Shane, chewing his damn gum, draping his arm around Lori’s neck, reveling in the victory of his complete and total acquisition of Rick’s family, his former wife a trophy of his win.  
  
“Rick,” Lori nodded.  
  
“Lori,” Rick nodded in return.  
  
“Rick,” Shane leered.  
  
“ _Asshole,_ ” Rick snarled in return.  
  
“Aw Rick, why ya gotta be like that,” he shrugged, pretending to be offended.  
  
He saw Daryl’s crossbow in the corner.  He wondered how much jail time he would get for just _wounding_ the prick.  
  
Crossbow accidents happened all the time in the home, didn’t they?  
  
“Who’s your friend?” Lori asked.  
  
“This is Daryl.  Daryl Dixon,” Rick introduced his new neighbor.  “My wife… _ex-wife,_ Lori and Shane, ex-best friend.”  
  
Daryl nodded to everyone in the room, Rick watching as Shane, no doubt, tried to place where he had seen Daryl before.  
  
“Nice to see you not letting yourself go.  You know…lounging around in pajamas…oh wait,” Lori said, a sardonic twist of her lips on her face.  
  
“What is it Lori?” Rick sighed.  “I’m busy.”  
  
“I can see that,” Lori scoffed. “I needed to see the apartment.  The kids’ll be spending time here.”  
  
“Well, let me give you the grand tour,” Rick said, “there’s the livin’ room,” he said as he pointed to the main room.  He spun around, “my office, the kitchen and the dinin’ room.”  
  
He lined himself up with his bedroom door.  “Through there’s the bedroom, the bathroom.  The tub has a real slippery bottom so’s the kids’ll be slippin’ all the time in the water no doubt, and back there’s a room that’ll be the kids.’  I plan on paintin’ the walls in lead and maybe if I have time I’ll cover the exposed hot wiring.  Iffen I get the chance, I’ll think ‘bout covering the huge pit in the middle of the room that leads to a bunch of man eaten’ alligators.  And the fire department has assured me that the dangerous level of carbon monoxide in the apartment won’t actually _kill_ us.”  
  
He figured he might as well be flippant.  
  
This wasn’t going to have a happy ending either way.  
  
“Very funny Rick,” Lori said, her lips pressed together.  
  
“Well, you’ve seen the place, you can leave now,” Rick said.  “Tours only run once a day.”  
  
Rick watched Lori’s face closely.  
  
She was taking in all the decor, the layout and how the place seemed so picture perfect.  
  
Her lower lip started to protrude ever so slightly.  That little movement of her lips told him oh so much.    
  
It was her ‘I love it but I can’t have it’ look.  
  
Rick knew the exact moment Lori approved of the place.  
  
And the exact moment she loathed it with all her being.  
  
“Place looks a little girly, Rick,” Shane snickered.  
  
“I’d like to see you carry a place like this off,” Daryl spoke up, huffing quietly in the corner.  
  
Everyone turned their eyes on Daryl, who happened to be doing something on his cell phone.  
  
“I just figured out where’s I seen you,” Shane said as he snapped his fingers, a look of superiority on his self-righteous face.  “You and your brother got inta trouble a while back…”  
  
“Hey now,” Rick sputtered.  “Daryl’s okay.”  
  
“Okay?  I thought you said you lived in a nice neighborhood,” Lori was quick to berate.  “If this new friend of yours had a little run in with the law, which in case you haven’t forgotten, you’re the law too…”  
  
“It _is_ a nice neighborhood.  The people here are great, friendly.  Daryl’s good people too,” Rick said quickly in defense, trying to head off any unpleasantness.  
  
Lori put her hands on her hips and scoffed, “nice friends?  Sure Rick.”  
  
“Oh you mean like people who care enough to help a man move into their new apartment when no one’s there to help ’em?  Or da ya mean best friends who stab ya in the back by fuckin’ their wives?” Rick snapped.  
  
“Don’t bring Shane into this,” Lori yelled.    
  
“You’re the one who dragged Shane inta this,” Rick said incredulously.  
  
“Now hold on there brother,” Shane started.  
  
“Don’t fuckin’ call me brother asshole!” Rick yelled back.  
  
“Put some clothes on.  I can’t talk to you right now,” Lori said, her hand on her head.  
  
“’S nothin’ you haven’t seen ‘fore,” Rick pouted.  
  
“Well not lately,” Lori said under her breath.  
  
Everything was all _his_ fault.  
  
If Lori wasn’t getting enough attention in the marriage, it was his fault.  
  
If he wasn’t arguing enough with her, it was his fault.  
  
If they argued too much, it was his fault.  
  
And now she was trying to control him yet again.  
  
In his very home.  
  
“This is _my_ home now,” Rick said.  “Ya can’t tell me what to do Lori.”  
  
“I guess you could go as casual as you like around here,” Lori smiled smugly.  “I mean, who you going to entertain now?  I remember Rick.  How long it took you to ask me out.  I’m going on with my life.  Me and Shane.  I can’t see as you’re going to get on that horse anytime soon.”  
  
And there it was.  
  
That final dig at him.  
  
He knew this would be coming.  
  
He knew how he felt about dating, getting out there again, putting himself out there.  
  
And she knew too.  
  
She knew and she _liked_ it.

She had counted on it.  
  
Because if he never got back on that horse, as she so eloquently put it, he would always be hers, somewhat.  
  
And she knew that as well.  
  
She now controlled everything.  
  
And he just stood there.  
  
What was he supposed to say?  
  
That she was right.  That she indeed had his number.  
  
He was the buck standing in the forest and Lori had just shot him.  He was still twitching before his final breaths were taken while Lori smeared the blood of her first kill on her cheeks.  
  
And just as he was about to walk into the bedroom, to just get the hell dressed, admit his defeat, the door banged open.  
  
It was Michonne and Andrea, both wearing frilly lingerie and silky robes.  
  
They stood there like a pair of avenging Valkyries, only with less Viking and more Victoria Secrets.  
  
Their eyes locked onto Rick’s, both of them seemingly upset with him.  
  
“There you are!” Andrea yelled, coming to stand next to Rick.  “You thought you could just sneak off like that?”  
  
“I knew I should of kept you tied to the bed,” Michonne replied huskily as she stood on the other side of him, her body rubbing all along his side.  
  
Both women were flanking him, rubbing against him, running their hands over his chest and arms.  Michonne stroked her foot along his leg.  
  
Rick looked up at Daryl, who for some reason seemed to have a shit eating grin plastered on his face.  
  
And then the gears in his head started turning.  
  
His gears had become rusty over the years, but they were still spinning.  
  
He looked over at Shane and Lori’s.  
  
Shane had that stupid look on his face.  
  
Well, Shane _always_ had a stupid look on his face.  
  
This one though was tinged with the color green.  There was disbelief and, dare Rick say it, honest to God, _awe._  
  
And Lori?  
  
Why Lori’s self-satisfied face had gone away and was replaced with a confused one, which was quickly morphing into a furious one.  
  
If Shane’s face was tinted with jealousy and awe, Lori’s was positively _radiating_ anger and just the tiniest bit of regret.  
  
He would place Lori somewhere at Def Con 3.  She would no doubt go nuclear if things didn’t calm down in the immediate future.  
  
“We made breakfast for you.  Figure you would be hungry after how _hard_ you worked last night,” Andrea smiled as she gave his cock a light squeeze, followed by her grabbing Rick’s chin and planting a full, wet kiss on his lips.  
  
“Daryl?” Rick squeaked.  
  
“Fuck Rick!  Whole damn buildin’ knew how _hard_ you was workin.’  Fuck if I could get any sleep last night.  They was so fuckin’ loud,” Daryl shrugged.  “And all that bangin!’”  
  
“Hey now!” Michonne whined, “what about me?”  She turned Rick’s chin toward her and planted another wet, sloppy kiss on his mouth, biting his bottom lip and running a stray hand down over his ass.  
  
He looked down and noticed his sleep pants had slipped just the smallest amount.  
  
Also little Rick was thinking about making an appearance.  
  
And if things weren’t getting out of hand enough as it stood, in walked, no _sashayed_ was a better word, Sasha, wearing a pair of yoga pants that were painted on, along with a low cut, yoga top.  “I thought you said you would be alone in your apartment this morning, Ricky,” Sasha pouted as she started running her hands up and down Rick’s chest.  
  
Rick looked over at Lori.  
  
Her face had gone from Def Con 3 to Def Con 2.  Nuclear blow up was the next step.  Unless he did something to stop all the madness, Lori’s meltdown was on the horizon.  
  
“Is this why you left our place this morning…to see _her?_ ” Michonne angrily said as she confronted Sasha.  
  
There was much too much rubbing going on.  His pants were starting to slip further down.  
  
The scene in his living area was so obscene, he knew the MPAA board were about to come in and slap them with a NC-17 rating.  
  
The door opened again and in walked Joe from yesterday.  
  
“Hey!” Shane said, for a minute his lust fogged brain clearing up.  “I know you.”  
  
“You guys kept me up all fuckin’ night.  You’re too loud.  And get off my grass,” Joe said in a bored voice.  “Okay, that’s all I got.  I got a new batch of ‘shrooms so I’m going to Oz today, to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz,” he snickered.  “So if anybody needs me, I’ll be somewhere over the rainbow.”  
  
Joe walked back to the door, opened it and left.  
  
But of course there was no break in the madness, as Maggie stepped through the door next.  She came in wearing a red gingham sundress, the sleeves falling off the shoulders, the skirt much too short.  She _slinked_ her way up to Rick, and yes, Rick would swear on everything that was holy, she slinked.  
  
She was taking the farmer’s daughter thing to heart.  All that was missing was a piece of hay sticking out of her mouth and the cast of ‘Hee Haw.’  
  
“What are _you_ doing here?” Andrea asked angrily.  
  
“I needed help puttin’ a picture up on my wall.  I thought since Rick was really helpful yesterday, he could do it again,” she smiled, as she ran her finger over his chest.  
  
“Brother,” Shane said, his voice getting choked up, “you only been here like, one day.”  
  
“He works fast,” Daryl said.  “You ever work that fast Shane?  Stick ‘round.  Maybe you can have some of Rick’s leftovers.  Oh wait,” he said as he looked over at Lori.  
  
“Maggie!” Glenn said as he rushed into the apartment.  He had the forlorn look of a spurned lover on his face and was wearing a wife beater.  “I knew you’d be up here…sniffing around _him._ ”  
  
Oh God.  Rick’s life had become a bad high school production of a Tennesse William's play.  Any minute now Glenn would start screaming ‘Maggie’ as if he were Marlon Brando himself.  
  
“Get Glenn to put up your own god-damned pictures,” Michonne stated huffily, a hand on her hip.  
  
“But I like the way Rick does it.  He’s got the _hammer_ for the job,” Maggie said as she stroked his 'hammer.'  
  
Lord save him from anymore bad penis puns.  
  
“And by hammer, I mean,” Maggie started.  
  
“I know what you mean!” Lori barked.  
  
Lori was now at Def Con 1.  Nuclear War was imminent.  She was a cocked pistol ready to go off.  
  
Then again, so was little Rick.  
  
And just as much fun as it was to get Lori back, to knock her off her high horse, he knew this would probably be the final nail in his coffin.  
  
The door opened one more time.  
  
In walked Beth.  She was wearing the tiniest micro mini skirt Rick had ever seen and a cowboy hat.  
  
She sauntered in, walked up to Rick and giggled, “I’m here for the pony ride.”  And without breaking that innocent smile, she said, “YeeHaw!”  
  
They were at ground zero now.  
  
Lori went total Hiroshima.  She blew.   
  
_“Rick!!  Who are these fucking people!?!!”_ Lori screamed.  
  
“Lori, please,” Rick started.  
  
He would ask Shane to intervene, but he seemed to be drowning in a puddle of drool at the moment.  His mouth was hanging open so wide, Rick could land a DC-10 in there.  
  
“You think what?  What…the what…I mean you…but then…you _never seemed_ …I mean… _fuck!_ ” Lori sputtered.    
  
Rick had never seen her turn so many shades of red before.  
  
It was too bad they didn’t have a crash cart like Dale had suggested on his first day.  Lori looked as if she were going into an epileptic seizure.  
  
“Eloquent, isn’t she?” Gareth stated.  
  
Gareth?  
  
Rick looked over and sure enough, there were the three stooges, all wearing their green aprons.  
  
“That reminds me,” Gareth said, “man, can you guys please keep down the…”  
  
“Oh shut up!” Lori yelled.  She turned toward Rick, “you know, I can make it so you _never_ see the kids again,” she said as she started to point her finger at him.  “I can make sure you lose your job.  I can make sure I take all of your money then you’ll be left with _nothing_ , living in some cardboard box on the streets!”  
  
With each threat, her voice kept getting higher and higher.  If it continued on in that fashion, only the dogs in the neighborhood would be able to hear her ranting.  
  
“You think _this_ is going on with your fucking life Rick?!  You think that?  You just gonna fuck anything, and yeah, I mean anything, that walks, crawls or slinks in here!  I swear Rick.  _I swear._   I’ll take the kids.”  
  
And there you have it ladies and gentlemen.  
  
The final nail.  
  
He was going to be lowered in the ground while everyone paid their respects.  
  
Of course, looking at a fuming, hysterical Lori, he was pretty sure she would just have his corpse burned and piss on the ashes.  
  
“Lori,” Rick started again.  
  
“Really?” Andrea said as she stepped forward, closing her robe in further on herself, standing in complete confidence.  “I happen to be a lawyer.  I’ve actually won many divorce proceedings and custody cases.  Despite the fact that Rick managed to find possibly one of _the worst_ lawyers that ever graced this green earth, no offense Rick,” she said as she turned to him, “I would represent him this time.  Now there’s a court order that states he’s to see his kids every weekend.  You don’t have to make sure the place is nice.  You don’t have to make sure of anything.  The only thing you are required by law to do is to let Rick see his kids.  I would gladly accept Rick’s case, pro bono…”  
  
“Pro boner is more like it dude,” Alex snickered, Rick covering his thankfully, dwindling erection, with both hands.  
  
Ignoring Alex’s comment, Andrea went on.  “I would gladly take his case, appeal it in a higher court.  I’m sure we could get Rick a better arrangement than the lousy one he was afforded by the county.  And let me tell you one thing,” Andrea continued, walking up to Lori and baring down on her, while Lori’s mouth continued to open and close, no words seemingly able to come out.  “I happen to know your lawyer.  He was a couple steps above the lawyer Rick had.  You can take that smart phone you got in your purse out, the purse _Rick_ paid for, the phone _Rick_ paid for, and call your lawyer.  Tell him my name.  See how fast he drops your scrawny ass.  I’ve won every case against him.  I have assistants, people who get my coffee, who’ve won cases against that asshole.  I am like a dog with a bone,” Andrea said and shot Alex a warning look.  “I will not stop if you decide to take me on.  I’ll make sure you lose your pretty little house, custody of the kids, every cent Rick pays you.  In fact, I’ll make sure you’re paying _him._   I’ll make sure every man you’re with after pays him.  I’ll make sure the aunt you have somewhere in the backwaters of Kentucky has to pay him.  People like you really piss me off.  You have to have everything.  You can't kick Rick out of your life while keeping him on a lease too!”  
  
Lori stared at Andrea, looking like she was on the verge of crying.  Her hysteria was gone and replaced with naked cold terror.  
  
She just had her single pair bluff called by a full house.

Rick just saw the clouds part and the skies clear.

He might even had heard blue birds singing.  
  
Just then the door opened again.  
  
Speaking of _full house_ …  
  
“What is this, Grand Central Station?!” Rick said in exasperation.  “Does anyone knock anymore?”  
  
Tyreese walked in.  
  
Rick unconsciously took a few steps away from Sasha.  
  
“You… _you_ …that’s Tyreese ‘Soul Train’ Williams!  You have _Soul Train_ living here?!” Shane sputtered, his mouth hanging open in shock.  
  
“Yeah, the train that doesn’t reach all the way to the station,” Marty muttered.  
  
“Hey Daryl, Rick!” Tyreese waved as he walked in.  He turned to Lori and Shane, “Hi, I’m Tyreese Williams and you are?”  
  
“Shane.  Shane Walsh.  Big fan!  _Big fan,_ ” he said as he shook Tyreese’s hand enthusiastically.  
  
“Honey, the lady next to him is Lori, Rick’s ex-wife and Shane is the guy who slept with Rick’s wife behind his back,” Sasha said as she crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
Tyreese’s face became enraged when he focused back on Shane, hoisting the man up by his upper arms.  “You did that to my good buddy Rick?” the large man growled.  Tyreese spun around.  “Who’s Rick?”  
  
“Sweetie, put the man down.  Remember what happened to the last man you handled like that,” Sasha said in a bored voice.  “Blood everywhere.  Couldn’t clean that shit out for _days_.  My brother just doesn’t know his own strength.”  
  
Tyreese put Shane down, Rick’s former best friend looking about three shades paler.  
  
He walked over to his sister and looked at Rick.  “Hey.  You’re a cop, right?”  
  
Remembering his conversation with the man earlier that day, Rick replied quickly, “ _no_.  “Dairy farmer.”  
  
“Oh,” Tyreese looked sullen.  
  
Rick watched as Lori walked up to Rick with true contriteness.  “I’m sorry for intruding Rick.  I should have called,” she said as she eyed Andrea warily, “the place looks lovely.  If you need anything for the kid’s room, let me know.”  
  
He watched as she stepped forward, as if to hug him, thought better of it and nodded her head.  “I’ll see you Friday, with Carl and Judith.”  
  
“Look forward to it,” Rick nodded back.  
  
Lori looked back one more time at everyone in the apartment.  Gone were the emotions from before.  The jealousy.  The resentment.  The upper hand that she had held over Rick’s head.  
  
No more would she take Rick’s relationship with her for granted, and yes, they did still have one, for as long as Carl and Judith were involved.  
  
“Shane, you coming?” Lori called out behind her testily.  
  
Shane hung around the door jamb a moment longer, looking at Rick.  He shook his head and looked off to the side.  “It really don’t gotta be this way man.  You were always my brother, Rick.”  
  
“Tha’s not how it works Shane,” Rick sighed.  
  
“So you wanna take Daryl Dixon as your new wingman, be my guest,” Shane grumbled, as he kicked the ground.  
  
“Thank you,” Rick scoffed, “but I don’t need you to give me approval.”  
  
“Shane!” Lori screeched.  
  
“You better go.  She gets real mad when she’s kept waitin,’” Rick smirked.  
  
“Yeah,” Shane said as he made his way out.  "Don't I know it."  
  
Rick turned to look at everyone gathered.  Somehow Carol and Merle had made their way into the group as well.  
  
“Gilligan’s hour must be over,” Michonne droned.  
  
“They still on that island Merle?” Marty chuckled.  
  
“They can make a damn radio out of coconuts but not a damn boat,” Merle grumbled.  
  
Rick’s phone rang just then.  
  
“Hey Grimes!” came the familiar voice on the other end.  
  
“Martinez!” Rick greeted back warmly.  “How are you Caesar?”  
  
“Good.  Good.  Hey!  Sorry ‘bout the divorce man.  That’s rough,” his old friend said sadly.  
  
“Yeah well,” Rick sighed.  
  
“But now that your watchdog Shane is outta the picture,” Caesar continued, “you should come hang out with me and my friends.  I know these brothers, Mitch and Pete.  Man, we can go out bar hopping and get really _tanked_ on cheap beer.”  
  
Watchdog?  Shane?  
  
“Sounds fun,” Rick grinned.  “So the county still trying to figure out how to rent out that piece of property we were talkin’ ‘bout a while back?”  
  
“Hell yeah!  I even called the guy in charge before I called you.  What’s it for?”  
  
“A weddin,’” Rick snickered.  
  
“Even better.  He said the people who need the place could have it for free.  It’s ready to go even.  Just as long as you let someone take photos of the event, so we can promote it to other people.  My supervisor said it’s good PR or some shit.  You know, the council members talkin’ ‘bout state expenditures so this could show ‘em how we’re not just wastin’ space.  This Saturday would be a go if you’re interested.”  
  
“Great!  She’s here.  I’ll talk to her.  Then she can call you back,” Rick said excitedly.  
  
“Okay, I’ll wait for her call.  And hey!  I wanna see you soon too man,” Caesar said in all seriousness.  
  
They said their good-byes and hung up.  
  
Rick turned to look intently at Maggie.  “That was the idea I was talkin’ ‘bout, iffen you’re still interested in makin’ sure this weddin’ goes through on time,” Rick started.  
  
“Rick?” Maggie asked curiously.  
  
“Look, I know ’s weird, but what if you were to have your wedding at…it’s been decommissioned because of building issues, but the grounds are _sound_.  And one of the buildings would be perfect…”  
  
“Rick?  The point today, please,” Glenn said not unkindly.  
  
“The Georgia State Correctional Facility,” Rick rushed out.  “’S been closed for ‘bout two years.  The property’s been sittin’ there, being maintained by the county and they were talkin’ ‘bout doing something with it.  You’d get it for free…”  
  
“You want me to get married… _in a prison?_ ” Maggie asked in disbelief, her face scrunching up.  
  
“Yeah, it’s free.  And big.  And available right now.  And free,” Rick said deflated.  
  
Now that Rick had said the idea out loud to everyone, including himself, he did have to wonder about the sanity of it.  
  
Maggie looked on, silently considering the outlandish plan.  
  
“Whada ya think Mags?” Glenn winced.  “I mean, yeah, it's strange.  I mean a prison…”  
  
“Kinda foreboding dude,” Alex said.  
  
“Puts a whole new meanin’ to the ole’ ball and chain,” Merle said.  
  
“I’ll take it,” Maggie said quickly.  “I’ll fuckin’ do it.  We’re havin' our god-damned weddin’ at a god-damned prison.  Why not?”  
  
When everyone took in the sight of a much happier Maggie, the same jubilant Maggie in fact from before when she had been looking forward to her nuptials, some people sighed in relief while the rest cheered gleefully.  
  
“Oh!  I got so much to do!” Maggie said excitedly.  “I have that Caesar guy to call back and we still have a weddin’ to put on.  Come on Glenn, Beth!”  
  
“Oh joy,” Glenn said, while dragging his feet.  “Hey!  Instead of the wedding march, can we sing chain gang songs walking down the aisle?”  
  
Beth was holding the jar of lollipops.  “Can I have one?” she asked innocently of Rick.  
  
“Of course sweetheart,” Rick smiled.  
  
“I’m holdin’ the jar.  Wanna take one out for me?” she asked.  
  
Rick reached in and grabbed one, taking off the wrapper for her and holding it out for her to grab.  
  
Instead of taking the treat with her hand, she quickly captured it with her mouth, a big smile adorning her face.  
  
Rick’s new porno movie starred him, skeevy sideburns and all, in a large custom van, offering the cute schoolgirl candy if she would just get into the vehicle with him.  
  
“Yeehaw!” Daryl chuckled.  
  
“Hey!  Anybody see my box of… _stuff,_ ” Rick said, wondering if it was such a good idea to ask this strange bunch where his unmentionables were.  
  
“What box of _stuff_ do you mean?” Andrea asked.  
  
“Never mind,” Rick said dejectedly.  
  
“He’s lookin’ for his damn underwear.  Which one of you clowns took it?” Daryl asked.  
  
Everyone turned as one toward Beth, happily licking the lollipop in her mouth.  
  
“Why are you all lookin’ at me?” Beth asked while pouting.  She stuck the lollipop back into her mouth and followed Maggie and Glenn out.  
  
The box was well and truly gone and he would have to wear the same undergarments from yesterday.  
  
“Yo’all can do whatever ya want.  I need to get dressed,” Rick said as Carol suddenly stopped him.  
  
“Daryl texted me.  I went out and got you these,” she said as she produced three packs of briefs, two packs of socks and one pack of undershirts.  “You can pay Daryl back.  I owed him some money anyway.”  
  
Rick looked down at the packages.  Then he looked up at Daryl.  “They’re the right size and everythang.”  
  
Daryl shrugged.  “Can’t have you wearin’ shit you killed gophers in man.  Ain’t right.”  
  
“That was you, right?” Rick whispered.  “I mean, I know it was you.  You texted everyone to come up here, with Shane and Lori.”  
  
“Well who else was it gonna be?” Daryl grinned.  
  
He may have lost Shane as his wingman, but he seemed to have picked up a new one in Daryl Dixon.  
  
And he was okay with that.

Better than okay.  
  
He walked into his bedroom and dressed in his clothes quickly.  
  
He looked at the third package of underwear, scoffed at it and put it aside.  He would deal with that later.  
  
Coming back out, thankfully now fully dressed, he noticed a new face seemed to be in the crowd.  
  
“Look!  Morgan came to visit!” Andrea said as she lay a hand on the back of the newcomer, an African-American who appeared to be somewhat out of his comfort zone.  
  
“Hi, I’m Morgan,” he said as he held out a hand to Rick.  
  
“5C, right?” Rick smiled.  
  
“Yeah,” he said, looking delighted all of a sudden.  “I know you!” Morgan exclaimed as he pulled Rick into a fierce hug.  “It’s so good to see you Commissioner Gordon!”  
  
“Oh God,” Daryl grumbled.  
  
“How come he gets to be Commissioner Gordon and I’m stuck being the Riddler?” Gareth pouted.  
  
“Dude!  Riddler’s where it’s at,” Alex said.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Rick said as he shook his head.  
  
“Since we took down Two Face, I thought I’d never see you again, old friend,” Morgan said happily.  
  
Rick looked at all the faces around him.  
  
“He…thinks he’s... _Batman,_ ” Daryl sighed.

Well, that explained everything.  
  
It was official.  
  
He was living in an insane asylum.  
  
He wasn’t renting an apartment in a nice neighborhood in the nifty part of Atlanta.  
  
He had taken some bad medication or something and was now in a mental institution, handcuffed to a bed while large orderlies fed him more medication through an IV, a continuous stream of mind altering drugs flowing through his system.  
  
Or he was in a medically induced coma and this was some weird dream.  He would wake up and find himself in an apocalypse surrounded by the undead.  
  
Or he would just wake up to find Bobby Ewing in the shower.  
  
“Batman,” Rick stuttered.  
  
“Yes, but you can call me Morgan,” he said smiling benevolently up at Rick.  
  
His cellphone rang again.  
  
It was probably John Lennon telling him to wake up now.  
  
In actual fact, Rick was not on the crazy train as it was his chief at the precinct.  
  
There was an emergency and all available men who were not currently working were being called in.  He had to be at the station in under half an hour.  
  
Hanging up the phone, he turned to everyone, a blank look upon his face.  “I have to go in.  ’S all hands on deck.”  
  
“Oh no, what’s up Rick?” Michonne asked, concern furrowing her brow.  
  
“The new penguin exhibit at the zoo.  The penguins got out.  They’re running amok through Atlanta,” Rick said, looking at nothing in particular.  “Animal Control can’t do it by themselves so we’re bein’ called in.  What the fuck’s up with the animals ‘round here lately?!” Rick yelled out in exasperation, his hands thrown up at his sides.  
  
“Penguins at the zoo?” Carol exclaimed as she covered her mouth, suddenly anxious.  “Oh my!  _Sophia_ is at the zoo today with her cousins.”  
  
Rick jogged into the bedroom and came out, fastening his gun belt on his hips.  
  
“Ya gonna _shoot_ tha penguins?” Merle scoffed.  
  
“No!  But I’m on duty now.  Shit!  _Penguins!_   Gophers, now _penguins!_   You’re the great white hunter.  What do you suggest?” Rick asked Daryl.  
  
“Lure and trap.  Whatever penguins like, lure with that, then trap ‘em,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
It didn’t sound like a terrible idea.  
  
“Oh!  You’ll miss Spaghetti Sunday!” Sasha exclaimed.  
  
“Yeah, Spaghetti Sunday!” Tyreese said, “what’s Spaghetti Sunday?”  
  
“We eat a lot of Italian food up on the roof.  You know, spaghetti, lasagna, garlic bread, caesar salad,” Andrea said.  “Oh!  And Merle and Daryl bring this rum cake that’s been soaked in straight moonshine for a whole week.”  
  
“Trust me when I say you do _not_ want to get that cake around any open flames or w _hoosh!_ ” Gareth laughed.  
  
“So we eat a lot of food, get drunk off our asses on cake and know it's time to head back in when the Governor starts yelling at us to stay away from the ledge,” Sasha said.  
  
“Something about impact on the environment,” Michonne stated with a roll of her eyes.  
  
“Well, don’t know when I’ll be back, but save some of that cake for me,” Rick smiled, Daryl catching his eye with a nod of his head.  
  
“Well, good luck with the penguins,” Daryl smirked.  
  
“Shut up,” Rick smirked back.  
  
“You need help?” Morgan asked as he put a hand on Rick’s shoulder in support.  “The Penguin is a devious and shrewd villian.”  
  
Rick decided to roll with it.  
  
As they say, when in Rome…  
  
“No, you stay here and keep an eye on Gotham for me,” Rick said in all seriousness as he gripped Morgan’s shoulder.  
  
“Oh he’s _good,_ ” Tyreese said.  “Who is he?”  
  
Rick looked back one more time at everyone standing in his apartment.  “Wish me luck!  I’m off to round up penguins.  And the folks back at Cynthiana thought I’d only be dealin’ with the hardened criminals here in the big city,” he scoffed.  
  
While Rick was standing at the threshold of his door, he leaned into Daryl, “um, could you make sure everyone leaves my god-damned apartment?”  
  
“Sure thing Rick,” Daryl chuckled.  
  
As wingmen in general went, Daryl was _golden._  
  
  
  



	8. Friends don't let friends drive on Cake

  
  
  
  
Rick trudged up the stairs to the roof, the weight of the world on his shoulders.  
  
Of course, only about an hour ago, the weight of the world was _not_ what was on his shoulders.  More precisely it was fish guts.  
  
Oodles and oodles of fish guts.  
  
It had been draping off him, embedded in his hair, smeared on his clothing.  
  
 _Fish guts._  
  
And he thought his life couldn’t possibly have gotten any weirder.  
  
He made it to the door and opened it slowly, the aroma of Italian food hitting him all at once.  
  
He made his way to the center of the group of people gathered.  
  
“Hi,” Rick droned, as he waved somberly.  
  
“Rick!  You got off early enough to join us,” Andrea smiled.  As she did so, she brought her hand to her nose discreetly, then backed away.  
  
Now Rick had taken a shower back at the station before he had come home.  Two, in fact.  But the way Andrea had backed away, obviously more bathing time had been needed.  
  
Rick looked around him at everyone gathered.  
  
Some people had crinkled their noses, as if they had just smelled something foul.  
  
But that wasn’t what was bothering Rick as much as the other thing they were doing.  
  
They were all smiling at him.  
  
Big, hearty, robust smiles.  
  
Big, hearty, robust, _fake_ smiles.  
  
They looked like they were lined up for the Miss America pageant and the host was about to ask the contestants their views on world events.  
  
Rick wondered if this was the part of the horror movie where the seemingly harmless tenants showed their true side and tortured the poor unsuspecting newcomer in their midst right before they ate him.  
  
Hell, with the way the fish stink was still clinging to him, they could soak him in lye.  
  
They say ludefisk is a delicacy in some parts of the world.  
  
“Hungry?” Michonne asked sweetly, yet anxiously.  “I can make you a plate.  We’ll skip the caesar salad.”  
  
There were warning bells going off in Rick’s head right about now.  
  
“Michonne?” Rick asked warily.    
  
“Sasha made it pretty heavy with anchovies,” Carol winced.  “And since, well, since you wouldn’t really be up to something that fishy…”  
  
The alarm bells were going off so loudly at this point, Rick was surprised he could even hear anything at all.  
  
That or a tiny fish had managed to lodge itself into his ear canal.  
  
“Ah hell.  None of ya have a poker face worth shit!” Daryl shouted at everyone.  He came up to Rick and faced the man.  
  
Finally, someone sane.  
  
“We all know ‘bout what happened today…with you…and the penguins,” Daryl grimaced as he said the last bit.  
  
“Dude!  You went viral!” Alex jumped out of the crowd, holding up his smart phone to Rick.  
  
Rick looked down at the tiny screen.  And there he was in all his glory, covered in fish guts, walking through the streets of downtown Atlanta, a line of penguins following him.  
  
“Oh God, my life is over…it’s _over_ ,” Rick sighed.  
  
He wondered if he could make a quick getaway from the small gathering on the roof.  
  
Like maybe over the ledge.  
  
“Maybe ya should start at the beginnin,’” Daryl said, sympathy lacing his voice.  “Give the man a chair!” he shouted at anyone and everyone.  
  
A chair was quickly procured and Rick sunk himself into the cushiony depth of the quite comfortable patio chair.  
  
“I got to the station and they said we were headin’ out to the zoo first.  There were still a whole bunch of the penguins there,” Rick started, his voice sounding so weary.  “So I got there and,” Rick shook his head.    
  
His mind still couldn’t quite comprehend what he had been witness to when he first arrived at the scene.  
  
“Just take your time,” Andrea said as she put a hand on Rick’s knee.  
  
“Fuck that!  I wanna know what happened!” Merle shouted.  
  
“Shut the fuck up Merle!” someone said.  He was a big man, with red hair.  “Name’s Abraham.  This is Rosita,” he said as he indicated a pretty Latino woman next to him.  “Welcome to the building.”  
  
More tenants.  Rick was sure he would find out something strange or unseemly about them later.  
  
“Nice to meet you.  So, there was this little girl,” Rick said, as he held his hand out, as if indicating how tall she was.  “Sweet thang.  She was caught in the middle of like, a gang of penguins.  You know, people say they’re sweet creatures.  No, let me tell you,” Rick said as he turned serious, “people ‘re _wrong_.  These sweet creatures, they form gangs.  They ain't right,” Rick said as he tilted his head, as if in contemplation, going silent for what seemed like forever but in reality was only a minute.  “So there’s this girl in the middle of a gang of ‘em fuckers…”  
  
“There he is momma!” a girl sang out as she came out from the rabbit alcove, two other little girls trailing behind her.  
  
“Sophia?” Carol said.  “Is this the man you were telling us about?”  
  
“Yeah,” she said as she came up to Rick and hugged him tightly.  “Ew!  You smell horrible sir,” she said as she scrunched her nose.  
  
“I’m glad to see you got back safely sweetie,” Rick said, a small smile on his face.  
  
“You were the one who saved my baby?” Carol simpered.   
  
“Yeah, but I don’t thank they were gonna hurt her, such as it was.  They were tryin’ to give her pebbles.  Kept pushin’ them at her,” Rick said as he imitated something pushing something, a disgusted look on his face, “and cornerin’ her against the wall,” Rick sighed as he shook his head and closed his eyes.  
  
“Fuck, that’s sick!  She’s like twelve years old,” the governor muttered.  “Dirty, old penguins…”  
  
“I got her outta there but then I met up with the rest of the force and they had all these ideas ‘bout how to attract the rest of the penguins.  Then I remembered what you said,” Rick said as he turned to Daryl, a manic look in his eyes.  “Lure and trap.  So I asked them ‘what do the penguins eat.’”  
  
Rick paused here to catch his breath.  
  
“If Ida known what openin’ my big fat mouth would have got me, I would’ve never said a thang.  So help me fucking God.  Not a _thang_ ,” Rick said as he lifted his hand as if swearing before the court.  “So the person who feeds the penguins said ‘they love fish,’” he imitated in a high, girly voice.  “Next thing I know, cuz it was my brilliant idea,” Rick rolled his eyes, “and being I’m the new guy and blah blah fuckin’ blah, they covered me in fish guts.  It was smeared on me.  Entrails were hangin’ ‘round my neck.  They’d smashed that crap in my hair.  They violated me,” Rick shuddered, “with _fish_.”  
  
Most of Rick’s audience was shaking their heads in compassion while others shuddered, a sympathetic ‘dude’ and a ‘that’s just not right’ could be heard in the distance.  
  
“And I started walkin,’ down these alleyways, cuz there was all this evidence they had gone that way.  And it worked.  They were followin’ me.  They were followin’ me like I was some kind of penguin pied piper from hell.”  
  
“Say that three times fast,” Marty snickered, Gareth shushing him.  
  
“I was Moses leadin’ them outta the holy land,” Rick whimpered.  
  
“He’s pretty much lost it,” Andrea nodded.  
  
“Oh hell yeah,” Glenn said.  
  
“We got ‘em all,” Rick mumbled.  “Well, all but one.  I ‘member that sumabitch.  He stared right at me back at the zoo.  Assertin’ his dominance and shit.  He’s probably already in the inner city, gatherin’ a new gang together, settin’ up his mob connections…”  
  
“Damn flightless fuckers,” Daryl mumbled.  
  
“The new guy’s worse than Morgan,” Abraham whispered, Daryl cutting him a dirty look.  
  
“No!  No one is worse than Morgan,” Michonne shook her head.  “He’ll snap out of it.  He just needs cake.”  
  
“Oh here!  I’ll get him some cake!” Carol said excitedly as she jumped up from her chair and went to cut him a piece of the aforementioned dessert.  She handed him a napkin holding a good sized piece of cake.  
  
Rick inhaled deeply.  
  
He thought about those signs you see on gas pumps, that show that the fumes themselves are flammable and why you should never smoke while pumping gas.  
  
The cake was heavy and the alcohol was soaking its way through the napkin.  
  
“You have to try a bite,” Maggie urged.  “You’ll completely forget this whole day ever happened.”  
  
Rick thought about his day.  Lori, Shane, penguins.  
  
“It can’t possibly be that good,” Rick said dubiously.  
  
“Trust me, just take it slow,” Daryl smirked.  “Everyone’s first time with the cake is pretty intense.”  
  
“Stop makin’ me feel like some damn cake virgin,” Rick muttered.  
  
He was just about to take a huge bite when everyone leaned in, Michonne shouting the loudest, “ _Whoa!_   Just, a nibble. Nibble,” she said as she whispered the last part.  
  
He ate a small corner of the cake.  
  
The first thing that hit him was how sweet the cake was.  
  
A beautiful sickly type sweet that reminded him of gingerbread cookies and breakfast, complete with pancakes and syrup.  
  
Then the sugar burned off and he was hit with the alcohol.  
  
Oh God!  
  
It scorched his throat going down, but mellowed out into a smooth burn.  
  
The warmth spread through his body like wildfire, igniting all his extremities.    
  
His legs and arms all the way to his fingers and toes had all woken up.  
  
“I’m tingling,” Rick sputtered out.    
  
“Yeah, the first bite is always the best.  No bite after that is ever the same,” Joe nodded.  
  
“What the hell’s in this cake?!” Rick exclaimed.  
  
“We soak it in moonshine and maple syrup and a touch of molasses,” Daryl said proudly.  
  
Rick took another bite.  
  
“Shouldn’t we stop him?” Dale asked.  
  
“After his day?” Sasha scoffed incredulously.  
  
“Here, I’ll join ya,” Daryl said, as he held up his piece of cake.  “That way if ya get shit-faced, you won’t be alone,” he smiled as he took a big bite of his cake.  
  
And that, Rick realized, was what was great about wingmen like Daryl.  
  
  
 _Half an hour later..._  
  
  
“I just wanna let you all know that…that I _love_ you guys.  I love you and I love you,” Rick said as he teetered sideways off the chair pointing to everyone in a blissed out state.  “I don’t know you but I love you too,” he said as he pointed to a woman just standing there.  
  
“I’m Tara,” she said as she held up her fist to fist bump Rick.  
  
On the fourth try, he managed to get it right.  
  
“Oh he’s gone,” Michonne said.  
  
“He is out of the ballpark,” Tyreese said while shaking his head.  
  
“You would know,” Marty mumbled.  
  
Tyreese nodded to Marty in agreement, then stuck his hand out, “hey, have we met?”  
  
“We should play a game!” Beth sang out happily as she opportunistically snuck onto Rick’s lap.  
  
However Maggie quickly interceded and grabbed her arm.  “Bethy!  No!  No taking advantage of the man when he’s on cake.  And button up your goddamned blouse!”  
  
Beth stomped her foot in frustration, Michonne offering a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
  
Rick looked at all the people sitting around him.  He noticed everyone had taken at least a little bite of their cake by now.  “Game sounds fun,” he said as his head lolled around, trying to focus on just one person at a time.  
  
“Okay, Rick, sweetie, but after, you gotta take a bath.  Like a really long one cuz damn!  You stink!” Michonne said.  
  
“Never have I ever!” Beth shouted as she jumped up.  
  
“Sounds fun,” Andrea nodded as everyone around her either nodded their heads in agreement, giggled or snorted.  
  
The governor might have even cried out an “ _Ole!_ ”  
  
“I’ll start!” Beth giggled as she looked over at Merle slyly.  “Never have I ever been bare ass naked in public.”  
  
“Beth!”  Maggie admonished as she grudgingly took a bite of her own cake.  
  
“Maggie?!” Glenn squawked.  
  
“It was before you hon.  We’ll talk ‘bout it later,” Maggie said as she patted Glenn on the knee affectionately.  
  
Rick watched as Merle took a bite of cake, along with Abraham, Rosita, Dale and Joe.  “Does this mornin’ count if I was practically naked?”  
  
“That don’t count Rick,” Daryl said.  “Your ass weren’t naked.”  
  
“Never have I ever uploaded a video to Youtube of a man covered in fish guts,” Marty said as he looked over at Alex maliciously.  
  
Everyone as one turned to look at Alex.  
  
“ _You!?_   You’re Terminus1000!?” Gareth yelled at his brother.  
  
“You dick!” Abraham said quietly, yet sinisterly.  “I don’t even know this dude and I wouldna done it.”  
  
“Dude!  He passed right by the Starbucks!” Alex cried out in his defense.  “I’m sorry Rick, but man, you gotta know!  It was totally _awesome_.  Isn’t there anyone else here that wouldn’t have done the same thing?”  
  
Everyone continued to look at Alex in disgust.  
  
Rick gazed at the two brothers, Gareth holding his forehead in his hand, Alex looking pleadingly at Rick.  
  
“If I could get outta this chair and move my legs, I would kick your ass,” Rick slurred as he tilted his head. He slumped back into the comfort of the chair.  “Aw never mind,” he said happily as the feeling of euphoria continued to flow through him.  
  
Daryl leaned over to Rick and whispered directly into his ear, “you want _me_ to kick his ass?”    
  
“Can _you_ get outta the chair?” Rick asked incredulously.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right.  Never mind,” Daryl said as his head lolled off to the side as well, “Merle said I could never hold my cake.”  
  
Rick watched as a look of relief passed over Alex’s face. 

He was no doubt thanking the gods for the power of the Cake right about now.  
  
Just then, Rick noticed Dale looking at his watch again.  He would steal a look at it, then wind it almost absent-mindedly.  
  
“I noticed your watch Dale,” Rick said.  “The way you check it and wind it.  What’s up with that?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Dale chuckled as he leaned forward in his chair.  “I like what a father said to his son when he had given him a watch that had been handed down through the generations.  He said, ‘I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me, I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.’”  Then Dale sat back in his chair contemplating what he had just said.    
  
“Wow, that’s… _deep_ ,” Glenn droned.  
  
“Yeah well, that’s the William Faulkner version I like to tell,” Dale sighed.  “Actually, I just keep checking the watch to make sure I know when to feed the damn cat.  Fucker has me god-damned trained.”  
  
“Never have I ever,” Michonne said as she smiled wickedly, “traded sex for goods or services.”  
  
Everyone watched as Dale, Merle and Rick took a bite of cake.  
  
“Dale!” Andrea leered.  “Do tell.”  
  
“It might surprise you people, but I was young once.  And I was quite the wild one back in my day,” Dale smiled.    
  
“But what did you trade for sex?” Glenn asked.  
  
“How do you think I got this building?” Dale grinned while nodding his head.  
  
“Merle!” Daryl shouted.  “When did you trade sex for goods or services?!”  
  
“‘Member that neighbor lady?  Pete’s old lady?” Merle said.  
  
“Yeah, you was like _thirteen_ when she lived next door.  Then you got yourself into juvie,” Daryl frowned.  
  
“Well, how you think I lost my cherry?  She said she would make me meatloaf if I did the nasty with her,” Merle said.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell Merle,” Daryl scoffed.  “How could you?”  
  
“Yeah, well, tell me ‘bout it.  Meatloaf was fuckin’ dry as dirt,” Merle sulked.  “Come to think of it, so was she.”  
  
“Wait,” Gareth said, “Rick took a bite of cake too.”  
  
“Didya take a bite just cuz you wanted more cake?” Daryl asked Rick.  
  
“Naw, I was married for _fifteen_ years.  Lori would sleep with me and then ask for somethang.  I was like a goddamn ATM machine.  I would just spit out money, services, goods, my dignity…whatever…every time she hit my damn buttons,” Rick slurred.    
  
“That woman I saw today didn’t even look like she _knew_ where your buttons were,” Andrea said.  
  
“I could find ‘em!” Beth jumped up.  
  
“I don’t think we should be talkin’ ‘bout Rick’s buttons right now,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“Okay well.  Back to the game.  Never have I ever,” Gareth started as he looked at everyone with a devious smile, “slept with more than two people at one time.”  
  
Everyone watched as most of the people took a bite of their cake, Beth exclaiming, “Maggie!” when she saw her sister take a bite.  
  
Rick looked at Glenn.  
  
Well, he hoped that was Glenn he was looking at.  
  
He didn’t seem to be too surprised, especially when he took a bite of cake himself.  “It was during Maggie’s ‘let’s try a menage a trios’ stage,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
“So please, elaborate,” Dale said.  “You, Maggie and…a guy?  A girl?”  
  
“A girl,” Glenn smirked.  
  
“You dog!” Merle exclaimed.  
  
“Yeah, well don’t get too excited.  I was starting to get some, and then Maggie got all jealous and then she took over,” he said as he looked over at his fiance, who happened to be smirking and covering her face while trying hard not to laugh.  
  
“Yeah, but it was fun,” Tara said as everyone swung around to look at her in surprise.  
  
“Merle!” Daryl slurred.  “When was you with two women?”  
  
“That lady from the gas station back home, Trisha.  She brought her cousin with her that time, ‘member?” Merle said.  
  
“Merle!  That weren’t her cousin.  That was her damn Great Dane!” Daryl exclaimed.  “Man, were you lit that night.”  
  
“Thought she smelled funny,” Merle frowned.  
  
“You _dog_!” Abraham said sarcastically.  
  
Maggie and Glenn were whispering and chuckling with each other.  “Okay, we got one,” Maggie said.  “Never have I ever, slept with more than _four_ people at one time.”  
  
The only two people who took a bite of cake were Joe and Tyreese.  
  
“Okay, wait!” Rick blurted out.  “I can see Tyreese.  He’s like a quarterback god.  But Joe?  What the hell?!”  
  
“You seriously don’t know who Joe is?” Abraham asked.  
  
“Well, he did look familiar,” Rick said, his eyes squinting in concentration.  
  
Great.  Now he was seeing two of Joe.  
  
“Lead singer.  For Claimed,” Gareth sputtered.  “He’s like one of the greats when it came to late seventies Glam Rock.”  
  
“And don’t forget his stint in Stadium Rock in the early eighties, dude,” Alex said.  
  
“I can’t believe,” Rick sputtered.  “I mean, I _thought_ I’d seen you before.  Oh my God!  Shane and me went to one of your comeback tours!  I ‘member you…with all the hair.”  
  
“Yeah, I had an amazing mane of hair back in the day,” Joe said.  
  
“And platform shoes, glittery outfits and make-up that would put Elton John to shame,” Dale nodded.  
  
“So, you were big man,” Rick said.  “What’re you doin’ here?”  
  
“Did the Hollywood thing. The New York thing. Like it here,” Joe shrugged.  “‘Sides, damn agent made off with all my money,” Joe said in disgust.  “I took what I had left in my drug money stash and invested in this… _thing_ , Hathaway I think its called.  I managed to get a royalty check once a year though...somehow.”  
  
Andrea poked Rick’s knee while whispering.  “He means Berkshire Hathaway, only the premiere investment fund.  He may not look it, but he’s on the list as one of the richest people in the business.  He was right about the agent.  He _did_ take everything, including the rights to his music.  That royalty check he gets,” Andrea said making air quotes around the word ‘royalty,’ “is a dividend check.  My firm represents the people who take care of his finances.”  
  
Dale bent over, “he could buy this building ten times over.  He has two apartment units below you.  One for living and one for his studio.”  
  
“Studio?  He still makin’ music?” Rick asked.  
  
“Art,” Dale said.  “Don’t ask,” he said as he closed his eyes and shuddered.  
  
Maggie and Glenn were huddled together again.  Glenn said, “Okay, never have I ever, slept with more than _five_ people at one time.”  
  
Everyone looked at Tyreese and Joe expectantly, wondering who would win the standoff.  
  
Joe and Tyreese took a bite of cake.  
  
“Oh honey,” Sasha said, “remember?  What you told me before…about how many people could fit on a bed at one time?”  
  
Tyreese stared off into space and started humming a tune in his head.  He sang, “so one rolled over and one fell out, and the other one said.”  He stopped.  “Oh!  That’s right.  Only six people on a bed.  So I’ve only slept with five people.  Boy!  I really wish I could remember _that_!”  
  
“Well, he did try to sleep with six one time,” Sasha said.  
  
“What happened?” Philip asked.  
  
“She fell off,” Sasha said, while Tyreese hummed the nursery rhyme in the background again.  
  
“Okay, well, I for one, do not want to know how many people Joe’s slept with at one time, so I think we can end this game now,” Dale said.  
  
“Must’ve been a pretty big bed,” Tyreese nodded.  
  
“You have no idea,” Joe said.  
  
Sasha and Michonne regarded Rick, both women looking down at him.  
  
They were slanted at an odd angle.  
  
Or maybe he was.  
  
“I hope that’s the last of the cake for him,” Sasha said.  “He looks ready to keel over.”  
  
“You know Sasha, you have _really_ pretty eyes,” Rick smiled stupidly.    
  
“Oh,” Sasha beamed.  “Maybe he can have another _tiny_ bite,” she said as she brought the rest of her cake up to his lips.  
  
“Hey now,” Michonne reprimanded as she slapped her hand.  
  
“And man, Michonne, your smile lights up the whole fuckin’ place and your ass?  Is the best _ass_ in the whole, wide world,” Rick slurred, holding his hands out unsteadily to indicate something big.  
  
Michonne smiled widely just before she sat herself down next to Rick on his other side, breaking off a small piece of her cake and feeding it to him with her fingers.  “Alittle more wouldn’t hurt.”  
  
“Alright, it’s time you took him back to his apartment Daryl, before he starts lamenting about Andrea’s tits,” Dale said.  
  
“They are rather lovely,” Rick said with a lopsided grin.  “Very symmetrical.”  
  
“Such a sweet talker,” Andrea scoffed.  
  
Daryl picked Rick up off his chair, standing him up, losing balance himself as well.  “I’ll get ya back to your place Rick.  You’re all fucked up.”  
  
“I’m fucked up?!?!” Rick exclaimed.  “If we got hairspray ‘round your breath, we’d have a blow torch!”  
  
“Well, let’s not get any hairspray ‘round my breath,” Daryl said matter-of-factly.  
  
“Deal,” Rick said and both men broke into a fit of giggles.  
  
“Now keep him away from the ledges.  I don’t think he took our talk very seriously this mornin,’” the governor admonished.  
  
“And make sure that boy takes a bath,” Carol scolded as well.  
  
“Oh!” Michonne jumped up.  “The tenant before you left that big jar of bath bombs behind.  Throw one of those in the tub. He’ll smell all pretty when he gets out,” she said, looking entirely amused with herself for the suggestion.  
  
“Bath...bath bombs?” Rick sputtered.  
  
“Yeah, we were gonna take ‘em,” Andrea said, “but we never got around to it.  You only need one and it’ll make lots of bubbles.  So only one,” she finished off, holding up her index finger.  
  
Rick wasn’t sure, but he wondered why she suddenly had three index fingers.  
  
“Okay, well, Daryl is gonna take me home now.  And I guess we’re gonna napalm my bathtub,” Rick giggled.  
  
“I _love_ the smell of napalm in the morning,” Abraham said, looking at all the people staring back at him.  “Well I do,” he whined.  
  
“Are you sure?” Sasha winced.  “Daryl looks as bad as Rick.”  
  
“Pfft!” Daryl said as his bangs went flying with that small expelling of his breath.  “I’m fine,” he said as he stumbled over an errant foot.  
  
“He’s fine,” Rick said as he patted Daryl’s chest.  “Look at him,” he said as he pointed in the general vicinity of the rabbit alcove instead of Daryl.  
  
Just before they made their way to the roof door, they saw Dale standing and looking at the mess before him.  
  
“You know, it would be nice to get some help with clean up!  Damn children,” Dale muttered.  
  
The governor walked up to Dale and put his hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t you worry Dale.  Now you just call me when you need help with all this.  I’ll be downstairs in bed, sleeping.”  
  
Rick and Daryl made their way down the stairs and stumbled into Rick’s apartment, making their way through his bedroom and into his bathroom.  
  
His very _pink_ bathroom.  
  
And right next to the claw foot tub, was a small white-washed pedestal holding a large glass jar filled with big, round, colorful balls.  
  
“I wasn’t sure what the hell that was.  Looked like huge jawbreakers or somethang.  I was thinkin’ of puttin’ one of those in my mouth, they looked so good,” Rick said.  
  
“Man, you gotta stop puttin’ shit in your mouth,” Daryl said.  
  
“They’re so pretty, so many colors,” Rick said, trying to focus on the jar.  Then he popped his head up.  “Maybe after I take my bath, we can go back up and set the rest of the cake on fire. See how long it lasts,” Rick snickered.  
  
“That shit's worse than a tire fire.  Gareth did that once.  It never fuckin’ went out.  Drove Dale batshit crazy!” Daryl slurred.  
  
“Batshit,” Rick giggled.  
  
Both men howled “Morgan!” at the same time while chuckling.  
  
“Now take your damn bath!” Daryl said, “you _stink_.”  
  
Rick kneeled next to the tub, put the stopper in, and ran the water, testing it for its warmth.  When he found the temperature he preferred, he dropped one of the balls into the tub, Daryl saying, “bomb’s away,” behind him while Rick made an explosion sound.  
  
They watched as the bubbles grew rather quickly.  “Good thang I didn’t put that in my mouth,” Rick said in awe.  
  
“You’d look like a rabid dog.  Merle woulda shot you,” Daryl said.  
  
“Sure smells nice,” Rick sighed.  
  
“Yeah, you should put ‘nother one in,” Daryl said.  
  
“Okay, right,” Rick said as he dropped two more in.  
  
“I’m gonna lay down on the bed while this fills up,” Daryl said as he pointed behind him.  
  
“Okay, sounds like a good idea,” Rick said.  “I’ll join ya.”  
  
Both men made their way onto the bed, propping themselves up against the fluffy pillows.  
  
“If I fall asleep, wake me up when the tub is full,” Rick yawned just before he let his head rest on the pillow and closed his eyes.  
  
“Okay, will do,” Daryl mumbled, as he too lay his head on the pillow, it sliding and resting against Rick’s.  
  
Both men rested their heads against each other, snoring quietly, while the tub continued to fill with suds.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that little watch speech Dale gave was the exact same one from "Vatos," in Season 1. I just added the part about the cat. ;P
> 
> Also, I apologize to Andrew Lincoln for the shit I put him through.


	9. Cake and Lollipops should always come with a warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to be soooo long so I shortened it into a few smaller chapters.

 

  
  
  
  
Rick awoke to the sounds of the city’s frantic rush hour traffic and the toasty feeling of the early morning sunlight warming his naked body all over…  
  
Wait.  
  
Naked?  
  
Rick shot up off the bed so quickly, he felt the chill of the cool air as it ran over his exposed flesh.  
  
Which brought him back to his current dilemma.  
  
 _Why_ was he completely bare-ass naked in the first place?  
  
Well he wasn’t _completely_ naked.  
  
There was a small hand towel covering his cock.  
  
And that was it.  
  
Rick ran into the bathroom, holding the towel to his member securely, and looked at himself in the mirror.  
  
As he gazed upon his reflection, he noted that someone had shaved his beard.    
  
Not trimmed.  
  
But _shaved._  
  
All the hair upon his face, the hair he had gone to sleep with the night before, was gone.  
  
Vanished.  
  
As if his beard had decided to pack its bags and take off in the middle of the night, leaving no note or forwarding address.  
  
And his hair!  
  
Someone had taken the time to trim it. Luckily the person who had done this to him had not decided to shave his whole head to boot.  All in all, it was a good trim.   
  
It was by no means as short as Lori usually trimmed it for him;  maybe an inch overall was taken off.  
  
And his face?  
  
Why it was so smooth, and well, _cleaner,_ than he had ever seen it before.  
  
It was as if someone had taken to exfoliating him, giving him a facial, and leaving his skin renewed and fresh and not so tired looking.  
  
Rick gave himself an appreciative smile in the mirror before he stopped and scowled at himself.  
  
A facial, a shave and a haircut were all well and good, but when he was fully awake and consenting to it for fuck sake!  
  
But oh no, it didn’t stop there.  
  
Rick looked down at his chest and noticed that the sparse amount of hair he had had there was gone as well.  Lifting his arms, he noticed that his underarms had also been shaven.  
  
He had to admit, fortunately, that they hadn’t shaved his arms, or his legs for that matter, as he took stock of his exposed limbs.  
  
And in looking down, he noticed his skin overall.  
  
Rick brought his arm up to his nose and inhaled his fresh, clean skin.  
  
There was definitely a hint of vanilla and something else there, something flowery, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  
  
And just like the skin on his face, the rest of his body felt just as smooth, just as tingly.  
  
The fish smell was well and truly gone, and for that Rick was grateful.  
  
It was then that Rick remembered the night before and he spun around to confront his tub.  
  
He had recalled putting some kind of foaming bath agents in there, which made loads of suds while the tub filled with water.  
  
In theory, he should have awoken to a flooded apartment and angry downstair's neighbors.  
  
Instead his bathtub was bubble and water free.  In fact, the tub itself glistened and there was not a bit of soap scum to be found.  
  
Had he taken a bath in his sleep?  
  
Had he been that out of it?  
  
Rick felt along his closely shaven face and pulled on one of his errant curls.  
  
He may have been so out of it that he could have taken a bath, maybe soaked in the tub for quite some time.  
  
But there was no way in hell he had taken a razor, let alone a pair of shears, to himself.  
  
Sleep-bathing was one thing, although the thought of it made him shiver as he thought about slowly sinking into the warm depth of the bubbly water.  
  
But sleep- _shaving?_  
  
He would have woken up looking like something that had gone through a cheese grater.  
  
Rick ran into his bedroom when he remembered something else.  
  
The something else which happened to be sleeping in his bed at the moment and it sure as hell wasn’t Goldilocks.  
  
For there lay Daryl, snoring away on his side, snuggled up to one of Rick’s downy soft pillows.  
  
The man was still fully clothed and he looked exactly the same as he had last night.  
  
There was no way that Daryl had groomed Rick in the middle of the night.  He peered down at the other man’s hands and noticed the tips were still sticky from the cake they had eaten the night before.  
  
And oh yeah. 

 _Cake!_  
  
If someone had managed to come into his apartment in the middle of the night, bathed him, shaved him, and all around _groomed_ him, that he had never even woken up, then he knew he would never ever go near that God forsaken cake ever again.  
  
And it was then, because something in Rick’s agitated and confused state calmed down enough for him to notice, that he looked down at the small towel covering his cock.  
  
Rick removed the cloth gingerly and looked down warily.  
  
Oh.  
  
My.   
  
_God!!_  
  
“Daryl!!!!!  Daryl wake up!!!” Rick shouted.  
  
Daryl awoke abruptly into a sitting position, looking around in confusion, as Rick kept the hand towel securely on his member.  
  
Daryl contemplated Rick through sleep-hazed eyes.  “Merle.  Lemme go back to sleep.  ‘M havin’ a nice dream,” he mumbled as he lay his head back down on the pillow.  
  
“Daryl!  This ain’t a dream!” Rick yelled.  
  
Daryl quickly jumped off the bed as his eyes opened wide, regarding Rick once more.  “Rick!  Whaddya doin’ naked?!”  He looked down at himself and said under his breath, “and ‘m not.”  
  
“I woke up this way,” Rick said petulantly.  “I woke up and I was like _this._ ”  
  
Daryl got into Rick’s space and sniffed the air around him.  “You smell real nice.”  He peered closely at Rick’s face.  “Y’all is shaved too.  That is the fuckin’ closest shave I’ve ever seen,” Daryl marveled as he went to run his hand along Rick’s jawline.  
  
Rick pulled away, “that all you gotta say?!  Someone bathed me, and shaved me in my sleep.  Someone groomed me…without my consent!  I feel so dirty,” he pouted again.  
  
“I’d say you’re ‘bout the farthest thing from dirty right ‘bout now,” Daryl snickered, then turned serious as he saw the frown Rick aimed at him.  “You sure you didn’t do all this by yourself.  We was pretty wasted man.”  
  
“I know I didn’t.  This was someone else!” Rick sighed, then leaned into Daryl’s space, the other man’s eyebrow rising the closer Rick got.  “They shaved me in places I would never shave.”  
  
Daryl frowned, “you mean your chest?”  
  
Rick looked down at the hand towel he was still holding onto for dear life, while Daryl obviously got the hint, as he looked down as well.  
  
“You mean…they shaved you… _down there_?!?” Daryl asked in surprise.  “Can I see?”  
  
“No!  You can not see!” Rick yelled as he turned away, displaying his naked backside to the other man.  
  
Daryl coughed and turned away.  “Sorry man.”  
  
Rick spun around quickly and started waving his hand in the air, all the while still holding onto that towel.  “I had no idea when I moved into this buildin’ that I was moving into a frat house!  What?!  ’S this hell week?!?!  Did I jus’ git hazed?  Who pulls a fuckin’ prank like this?!” Rick exclaimed as he bent his head sideways, and regarded Daryl.  “This ever happen before?”  
  
“Dunno.  I don’t think so,” Daryl said and frowned.  
  
“Cause iffen it did, and the way this place is so fuckin’ crazy, I bet it did, then we have a serial…a _serial groomer_ on our hands,” Rick said seriously.  
  
“A serial groom… _groomer_?!” Daryl sputtered.  “Fuck Rick!  How toasted were we last night?  Not only did you sleep through it, but so did I.”  
  
“I usually pride myself on always being the alert one, always on my guard,” Rick said sadly.  “But they came in here and did all this.  And I slept through the whole damn thing.  Through everything!  They coulda shipped me off to Cuba and I woulda woken up somewhere in a cigar factory.”  
  
Rick sniffed his skin again.  “I know parts of this is vanilla, but what’s…”  
  
“Lavender,” Daryl interjected.    
  
“Oh, ’s nice,” Rick said and then an idea came to him.  “You think this was Merle?”  
  
“Naw, he woulda tattooed you.  Somethin’ like pigs in a blanket or a treasure map or somethin’ stupid.  This ain’t Merle,” Daryl said as he waved his hand away.  “I have ‘nough trouble gettin’ him to groom himself.  Uh, Rick?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“’S time to get dressed,” Daryl said as he turned away.  
  
“Oh, right.”  Rick walked over to his dresser and opened his underwear drawer.  
  
“That is the most organized underwear drawer I’ve ever seen,” Daryl said, “except for that one, that’s facing the other way than all the others.”  
  
“Hey!  That’s that way for a reason,” Rick groused.  “Sorry, ’m a bit touchy this morning.  Oh yeah, that reminds me.  Here, you can take this extra pack of underwear,” he said as he gave Daryl the third pack of briefs.  “Thank you for that, by the way, but I don’t need the third pack.”  
  
“Why?  Six briefs to a pack, three packs gives you eighteen,” Daryl said.  
  
“Six briefs to a pack, two packs gives you twelve.  Don’t need eighteen,” Rick scoffed.  
  
“Explain,” Daryl said as he crossed his hands over his chest.  
  
“I work four ten-hour day shifts.  So two pairs of briefs for a working day.  I like to come home and change after a long day,” Rick shrugged.  
  
“That makes sense,” Daryl nodded.  “So that’s eight pairs for four days.”  
  
“Right, then I only need one pair each day I’m off.  So that’s three days off.  Three plus eight plus one as a spare equals twelve,” Rick finished.  
  
“The one that’s facing the other way,” Daryl said as he picked it up and changed the direction it was facing, making it the same as all the rest, “that the spare?”  
  
“Well, it ain’t now!” Rick groused.    
  
“Fine!  Now that one’s your spare!” Daryl said as he took another pair of briefs and turned it the other way.  “Happy now?”   
  
“Actually, I am,” Rick sulked.  
  
“You are a strange man,” Daryl nodded.  “But at least I know you ain’t perfect.  How’d your ex feel ‘bout your underwear drawer?”  
  
“Who’d you think made up the system?” Rick said as he pointed to the drawer.  
  
He looked down at the briefs all laying within, all folded and laid out neatly in a row.  Rick then took a few pair and turned them facing different ways.  He even laid one pair over the other ones.   
  
His drawer was now in complete chaos.  
  
It was anarchy in his dresser, the likes of which he hadn’t seen since before the day he got married.  
  
“There.  ‘M taking back control.  She’s not holdin’ the reins on _this_ horse no more,” Rick said proudly.  
  
Daryl looked at the drawer and then back up at Rick.  “You are such a rebel,” he smirked as he pointed a finger at Rick.  “Now let’s git real crazy.  Where’s that sock drawer?”  
  
Rick sighed and pulled his jeans over his hips and zipped them up.  
  
He then wiggled a bit in his jeans.  
  
The cotton briefs were creating some friction on his freshly shaven groin.  
  
He almost wondered what would happen if he got silk boxers instead.  
  
But that would put his underwear drawer in complete and total pandemonium.  
  
“Hey wait a minute, don’t you gotta get ready for work?” Daryl asked.    
  
“Naw, on account of yesterday, Hanson told me I could have today off,” Rick said.  “And still get paid.”  
  
“Hanson?” Daryl asked.  
  
“The Captain.  Nice guy but some of the others…I dunno,” Rick said as he turned away and put his hand on his neck.  
  
Oh who was he kidding.  He hated his fellow officers at the precinct.  
  
Gorman, O’Donnell, Shepherd and Lerner.  
  
He shuddered when he thought of Officer ‘call me Dawn’ Lerner.  
  
She was the creepiest one of them all.  
  
Still, it beat working with Shane back in Cynthiana.  
  
And in reality, this was a great opportunity for him.  Now he could try for detective, something he had always dreamed of.  
  
“I’ll be in the main room,” Daryl said as he made his way out of the bedroom.  
  
Rick went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth and then came to the realization that there was nothing left for him to do.  
  
He had never been so groomed in all of his life.  
  
Which reminded him once again that someone had broken into his apartment and had their way with him sometime during the night.  
  
Which led him out to the main room and straight to his lollipop jar.  
  
He leaned over, reached into the glass jar, unwrapped one of the suckers and popped it into his mouth.  
  
Rootbeer.  
  
He _loved_ the rootbeer flavored ones.  
  
Rick held the treat by the stick and engulfed the pop into his mouth.    
  
“So how do ya think,” Daryl said as he turned around but then paused.  “What’re you doin?’”  
  
“When I get stressed, I put somethang in my mouth,” Rick said as he pushed the pop into one side of his mouth and then switched to the other.  He pulled the candy out and wrapped his tongue around the top before he sucked it back in.  “You okay Daryl?”   
  
The man looked dazed.  
  
“So when you git stressed, you...stress suck?” Daryl nodded.  “Might need one of those too,” he muttered as he turned away, a scowl on his face.  
  
“That and when I problem solve.  So I figure I know how to find out who did this,” Rick said as he took the candy back out of his mouth, his lips pursing as he lapped up the sweet juice.  He held the lollipop out and pointed it at Daryl.  “So what did we learn as of yesterday?”  
  
“That we live in a real fucked up place and that we can’t hold our cake to save our fuckin’ lives,” Daryl said.  
  
“Besides all that,” Rick said as he waved his hand away and licked the candy before sticking the thing back into his mouth.  “We found out that people like to post weird stuff on-line.  Like my _thing_ with the penguins.  Alex happened to get it on film and it went viral.  So what if someone _purposely_ pulled the prank on me and filmed it just to post it.”  
  
“Someone jus’ sat there, filmin’ you while they shaved you...and other stuff,” Daryl drawled.  “That’s sick man.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s skeevy but not outta the realm of possibilities.”  Rick took the lollipop and ran his tongue around the head of the confection.  “If we figure out a pretense with each person in the building, to get their cell phone…you know.  My battery died, can I use your phone?  Can I check to see if your phone has any bars or reception.  You know, we’ll figure it out as we go along.”  
  
Rick didn’t hear any confirmation from Daryl about his idea so far.  He looked at the man who happened to be standing there, looking fixedly right back at Rick, seemingly lost in thought.  
  
“Did you get any of that?” Rick asked.    
  
“Yeah, we’re commandeerin' people’s smart phones to look for groomin' porn.  Got it,” Daryl nodded.  
  
Well, that seemed to be it in a nutshell.  
  
“This is like one of those episodes of CSI,” Daryl joked as Rick managed to wrap his tongue around the last little bit of candy.  “Gimme that!” Daryl said angrily as he pulled the lollipop out of Rick’s mouth.  
  
“Hey!  That was the best part!” Rick pouted.  
  
“So, where do we start?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Well, the most obvious.  Alex,” Rick shrugged.  
  
“But isn’t that a bit _too_ obvious?” Daryl asked.  “I mean, he’s gotta know we’d be lookin’ for him first.”   
  
“Well this ain’t some God-damned TV show.  This is real life,” Rick said.  “And we were always taught in law enforcement to go after the most obvious first, cause nine times out of ten, it _is_ the most obvious.”  
  
Daryl sighed, “Gareth and Alex, and Marty too, are all at work right now.”  
  
Rick smirked as he looked at Daryl, “wanna get some coffee?”  
  
“Thought you’d never ask,” Daryl smiled back.  
  
“Hold up, before we go,” Rick said as he headed back into the bedroom.  “Gotta do one last thing.”  
  
Rick went to his underwear drawer and put everything back the way it was before.  All pairs facing the same way except for one.  
  
Somewhere, he could hear the sound of a phantom whip of a riding crop and Lori’s gleeful laughter.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've apologized to Mr. Lincoln several times already, but yeah, here it goes again.
> 
> I am so, so sorry...


	10. A Bullmosa in a China Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if you want to know what the apartment looks like, you can go to [my livejournal post](http://slave-o-spike.livejournal.com/110230.html) here and you can see the pictures. This link will be on the end notes as well from now on.

 

  
  
“We can take my bike,” Daryl said as they exited the apartment building.  
  
“Oh, okay,” Rick said as he stopped short of Daryl’s ‘bike.’  
  
And by ‘bike,’ he meant a laboratory experiment gone totally mad.  
  
Frankenstein had created his monster after having grave robbers raid cemeteries for human body parts and cadavers.  
  
Daryl had created his monster by raiding the local junkyards for his ‘parts,’ those having originated in factories in Japan.  
  
“You have disc brakes in the front and drum brakes in the back,” Rick said as he looked at the bike, Daryl having pulled a second helmet seemingly out of thin air.  
  
“Yeah, well, there’s parts of different bikes in there.  This whole front end is a late model Yamaha racing bike.  It came into the junk yard after a race gone real wrong,” Daryl said as he regarded his bike.  
  
“And the back end?” Rick asked warily.  
  
“A piece o’ shit Honda Nighthawk.  Motor’s Nighthawk too,” Daryl shrugged.  “Well, an _older_ Nighthawk.”  
  
“But why?  Couldn’a jus’ bought one bike?” Rick asked as he gawked at the upside down forks in the front and the ratty gas tank.  
  
“S my first bike.  Been twenty years now,” Daryl said wistfully.  “I kept puttin’ on new parts I scavenged from junkyards and repair shops.  Wanted to make it better.  Faster.  ‘Sides, was easier than savin’ up for a new bike.”  
  
“But with the amount you spent on it by now?!” Rick asked incredulously.  
  
“With all the damn money I spent on it by now, I coulda bought the latest and greatest damn Ducati, or a fuckin’ BMW tourin’ bike,” Daryl lamented.  “’S a bit of a sore spot with me.”  
  
“Then why keep it?” Rick asked.  “You can prob’ly buy a brand new bike with the money you’re making.”  
  
“Cause ’s my baby,” Daryl scoffed.  
  
Remembering how Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein had ended, he hoped his ‘baby’ wouldn’t turn on Daryl someday, maybe start picking off the people in his new neighbor’s life one by one, finally ending with its creator himself.  
  
“Where’d the helmet come from?” Rick asked, as Daryl handed it to him.  
  
“’S Merle’s.  It’s okay.  He won’t know it’s missin.’  ’Specially now that he’s been takin’ his truck everywhere he goes,” Daryl said as he pulled on his own helmet.  
  
Rick turned the helmet over.    
  
The words, ASS, GRASS, OR GAS.  NO ONE RIDES FOR FREE were emblazoned across the back in hot pink.  “Do I really gotta wear this?” he whined as he held up the offensive thing.  
  
“Yeah, well, I’d prefer to let my long, flowin’ locks run free in the wind too,” Daryl smirked.  “But all I need is for some _damn_ cop to give me a ticket for not wearin’ the damn thing.”  
  
“I _am_ a damn cop!” Rick barked.  “I wouldn’t give you a ticket,” he said, trying to convince Daryl otherwise.  
  
“Well, maybe _you_ wouldn’t, but ya can’t say that for the rest of your…people,” Daryl said.  “‘Sides, ’s safer.  Merle rode without a helmet once.  And you’ve seen Merle.  Wear the damn helmet.”  
  
“Fine,” Rick sighed as he placed the helmet on his head.  Both men climbed on the bike, Rick straddling Daryl from behind.  
  
“Better hold on,” Daryl called back.  
  
He could see the hint of a smile on the other man’s face.  
  
Rick grabbed hold of the sides of Daryl’s hips and squeezed tightly.  “Sorry.”  
  
“’S okay.  Told you to hold on,” Daryl muttered as he started the bike.  
  
Somewhere in a geology lab, seismologists were scurrying around, contending with printouts that were currently going haywire.  
  
“What was _that?!_ ” Rick exclaimed.  
  
“Ain’t she great?  She just _purrs,_ ” Daryl cooed proudly.  
  
“That’s _purring?!_   That’s the matin' call of King fuckin’ Kong!” Rick grumbled.  “Hope Fay Wray is ‘round somewhere.”  
  
And with that, they were off, Rick holding onto Daryl, nestled closely behind.  
  
He felt like he had been teleported into a Mad Max movie.  
  
They made it to Fourth and Main in record time, parking right out in front of the Starbucks, Rick admitting that it had indeed been a better idea to take Daryl’s bike.  
  
“How was that?” Daryl asked eagerly.  
  
Rick looked down at the bike.  “I thought Mel Gibson was gonna come out of nowhere and throw a mace at my head.”  
  
“Was he wearin’ a kilt and blue war paint?” Daryl teased.  
  
“Wrong movie, you ass,” Rick laughed.  “Okay, le’s git this over with.”    
  
They both walked into a mid-sized Starbucks, not as small as their satellite outlets but not as big as the main coffeehouses.  
  
A perky girl with a tray jumped in front of Rick and Daryl.  “Would you like to try one of our cake pops?  I have carrot and red velvet…”  
  
“Oooh!” Rick said as he grabbed the red velvet pop, putting it into his mouth.  “Oh my God!  Cake on a stick!  This is like the best thang ever,” Rick moaned as he bit into the treat.  
  
“For fucksake!” Daryl fumed.  “Do you have ta eat everythin’ that comes on a damn stick?!”  
  
“’S good,” Rick said as Daryl pulled him away to the counter.  
  
“Um, hi,” Rick waved to the girl standing there.  
  
“It’s a _great_ day here at Starbucks!  What can I get for you,” perky girl number two asked, a smile wide on her face.    
  
Rick looked up at the daunting menu.  “I hate makin’ decisions.  I never know what to get.”  
  
“Yeah, me too,” Daryl groused.  
  
“Can I suggest a new drink we’re showcasing?” the chirpy girl said.  “How about a bullmosa?”  
  
“A bull-whata?” Rick and Daryl asked in unison.  
  
“A bullmosa.  It’s a combination of a cremosa, you know, an Italian soda with cream, and a Red Bull.  Alex is really good at making them,” she said.  
  
“Oh!  Alex is…is here?” Rick asked casually.    
  
Well, at least, he _tried_ for casual.  
  
“You know Alex?” the girl asked politely.  
  
“Yeah, we all live in the same apartment building,” Rick said.  
  
“Oh, my condolences,” the girl nodded without missing a beat.  “So bullmosa?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” both men nodded.  
  
Rick paid for the two Red Bull concoctions and made their way down the counter to where Alex seemed to be working away diligently, whistling while he mixed the various orders he had in front of him.  
  
“Always thought of 'im as a slacker.  He’s all happy and shit,” Daryl said, slightly bewildered.  
  
Rick nodded and then Alex looked up in surprise.  
  
“Daryl!  Rick!  Dudes!” he said spiritedly.  “Um, not dudes.  Not allowed to call anyone dude here.  So, greetings…Starbuck’s…patrons…”  
  
“Don’t hurt yourself Alex,” Rick drawled.  “Hey listen, Daryl left his cell back at the apartment and my battery jus’ died but I think I got an alert from the station on it.  Can I use your phone?” he asked innocently.  
  
“Another penguin attack?” Alex snickered.  
  
Rick stood completely still, staring daggers at Alex.  
  
“ _Dude,_ ” Daryl hooted, “if looks could kill, you’d be a chalk outline on the floor right ‘bout now.”  
  
“Look, dude, I mean, man, I mean, _Rick,_ ” Alex babbled.  “I am _really_ sorry…”  
  
“Alex!  Phone!” Rick barked.  
  
“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna interfere in the business of the fine men and women of the Atlanta PD,” Alex saluted as he handed his phone over to Rick.  
  
Rick knew the men and women of the Atlanta PD and he didn’t think there was anything fine about the sorry lot of them.  
  
“Really Rick, I’m sorry, about the vid,” Alex said abjectly.  
  
“Whatever.  Fine,” Rick waved away.  “Now get to makin’ our Red Bull… _things._ ”  
  
“You guys are gonna love these things!” Alex bounced happily as he went to make their drinks, whistling all the while.  
  
“Cheery fuck is pissin’ me off,” Daryl said.  
  
Rick looked down at the phone and started to wonder where he should start.  
  
“Go to his instagram account.  Fucker’s always puttin’ shit on there,” Daryl said.  
  
“Right,” Rick said as he opened the app.  
  
He flipped through the first three pictures.    
  
Alex holding what appeared to be the new bullmosa.  
  
A picture of Perky Girl number One and Perky Girl number Two.  
  
A picture of a sleepy Gareth giving the camera the finger as he tried to burrow further under his comforter.  
  
Then there was a picture of Rick.  
  
It was from the day before, when he was covered in fish guts.  A small herd of penguins were surrounding him.  There were words on the picture.  
  
Rick read the words, glanced up, and pursed his lips.  
  
“I’m a damn meme!” Rick said, slightly miffed.  
  
Daryl looked down at the picture as well.  
  
It read:  
  
I AM THE PENGUIN.  
  
KU KU KA CHU.  
  
“’S kinda funny,” Daryl giggled.  
  
Rick glared at Daryl.  
  
His wingman status might have just taken a slight decline.  
  
“Not funny, Daryl,” Rick said as he shook his head.  “I can’t believe this, but there doesn’t seem to be anythin’ from last night on here,” he sighed as he closed the phone and walked back over to Alex.  
  
“Hey Rick!” Alex said as he placed two drinks down upon the counter, two cups of what appeared to be pinkish liquid interspersed with whipped cream.  “If you were looking for the penguin video, I already uploaded it onto my laptop dude…um…man.  Anyway, its gone from my phone.”  
  
“Wasn’t what I was lookin’ for,” Rick growled.    
  
“Oh, okay,” Alex said, a perplexed look on his face.  
  
With the stupid look on the young man’s face (despite the fact the man always seemed to have a stupid look on his face anyway) and since Alex seemed to lack any guile, Rick was pretty sure he didn’t know anything about the grooming assault (for that was what Rick had deemed it).  
  
Rick sighed when he realized that Alex was most assuredly a dead end.  He took a sip of the bullmosa.  
  
And then he took another one.  
  
He started to suck the drink in furiously, getting to halfway down the cup before Daryl cut in.  
  
“Rick!  Slow down,” Daryl said.  “That shit’s pure caffeine.”  
  
“It’s real good,” Rick said.  “Take a sip.”  
  
He watched as Daryl sipped at the drink, a little of the cream staying on his lips.  “That is good.”  Daryl then took another sip, “that’s _damn_ good.”  
  
Both men continued to drink the concoction, the tell-tale sounds of suction emanating from their cups as they reached the very bottom.  
  
“Wow!  That was fucking awesome!” Alex exclaimed.  “Oh!  Can’t say 'fuck' either.  You should be careful though.  That has more caffeine than our straight espressos.”  
  
Rick felt a surge of adrenaline hit his body.  “That really hit the spot.”  
  
“Fuck yeah,” Daryl said.  “Come on.  Le’s go,” he said as they made their way out of the Starbucks.  
  
“You think they’ll have those drinks at Marty’s Starbuck’s?” Rick asked as he put on his helmet.  
  
“Fuckin’ hope so.  Talk ‘bout a rush!” Daryl said as he started the bike.  
  
Rick jumped onto the back of the bike behind Daryl, while he made his way back into traffic.  
  
They drove down Main Street until they reached their next destination on Sixth Ave.  
  
Hopping off the bike, Rick tore off his helmet.  “I think my ass is vibrating,” he giggled.  
  
“Come on,” Daryl said brusquely as he skipped into the next franchise.  
  
This was one of Starbuck’s smaller locations.  It was very narrow and had only a few small tables, but the menu appeared to be the same.  
  
It also seemed to have the same number of sprightly girls working there as the last coffeehouse, as another chipper employee bounced in front of Rick and Daryl, brandishing a tray laden with goodies.  
  
“Hi, would you like to try…”  
  
“Oh no,” Daryl said.  “You ain’t givin’ him ‘nother cake pop.  I’m wise to your tricks.”  
  
“These aren’t cake pops,” the girl giggled.  “These are our new line of Starbucks flavored lollipops.  I have Mocha Frappuccino, Caramel Macchiato and Vanilla Latte.”  
  
“Oh!  That’s like the best of both worlds!” Rick said as he grabbed a Frappuccino lollipop and stuck it in his mouth.  “Mmmm,” he moaned.  “It tastes just like coffee...in a lollipop!” he said gleefully as he licked the thing, wrapping his tongue around the head and then popping the thing out of his mouth.  
  
“What…are you _crazy?!_ ”  Daryl shouted at the girl, his hands going up wildly in the air.  “Offerin’ Rick somethin’ like that,” he muttered as he grabbed Rick by the wrist and yanked him to the counter.  “Come on.”  
  
“Hi,” Daryl said.    
  
“It’s a _great_ day at Starbucks!” the animated girl at the register said.  “What can…”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s a great fuckin’ day,” Daryl muttered.  “We want two of them bullmosas.”  
  
“Right away sir,” she said with a smile, ringing the men up.  
  
“Here’s your money,” Daryl said as he handed a ten dollar bill to the girl.  “Marty here?”  
  
“You know Marty?” the girl asked, her head tilted to the side, her sunny disposition seeming to fade somewhat.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said quickly.  “We live in the same apartment buildin’ and we know, you’re sorry.  Where is he?”  
  
“Making your drinks,” the girl said as she pointed in the direction of the young man currently working on their order.  She looked at the girl with the tray and mouthed the word ‘crazy’ at her.  
  
“Hey Marty, my man.  Dude!  What is _up?_ ” Rick asked heartily.  
  
“Uh hey, Rick, Daryl,” Marty said, a frown on his face.  He stopped chewing his gum for a second.  “These drinks for you?”  
  
“Yeah, they’re pretty good, huh?” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“You had them before?” he asked, resuming chewing his gum.  
  
“Yeah, like five minutes ago,” Rick said, bouncing in place.  
  
“Man!” Marty said before rolling his eyes.  “Go easy on ‘em, okay.  These fuckers’ll stop your heart.”  
  
“Hey, yeah, okay.  Good safety tip.  So I need to borrow your phone.  I got an alert and Daryl’s phone…is somewhere…and my battery,” Rick babbled.  Now irritated, he barked, “Aw hell!  Just give me your damn phone.  Police emergency.”   
  
Marty hurriedly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.  “Here you go,” he said as he continued to make their drinks.  “Seriously man, _chill._ ”  
  
Rick and Daryl scurried off to the corner and turned on Marty’s phone.  
  
“Instagram?” Rick asked.  
  
“You know it,” Daryl nodded as they clicked on the app.  
  
There was a picture of Marty holding up a bullmosa with a thumbs up.  
  
Then there was another picture of Rick, covered in fish guts, a line of penguins following him.  There were words splashed across the bottom.  
  
“’S another damn meme,” Rick groaned, “of me.”  
  
It read:  
  
THEY’RE TAKING THE PENGUINS TO ISENGARD.  
  
“Okay,” Rick giggled, “that one _is_ funny.”  
  
Daryl chuckled next to him as well, “yeah, it is.”  
  
They flipped through some more pictures and found nothing.  
  
“I think Marty’s clean too,” Daryl said.  
  
“Just had a damn shower,” Marty groused as he handed both men their bullmosas and took his phone back.  He continued to chew his gum as he stared both men in the eyes.  “Never had that damn vid you know.  Just Alex,” Marty mumbled.  
  
“Sorry, just makin’ sure,” Rick shrugged.  
  
Both men turned back around and huddled close together, whispering.  
  
“You’re thinkin’ Marty don’t know nothing too, right?” Daryl asked.  
  
Rick turned around and cast a look in Marty’s direction.  The young man happened to be counting the number of spots in the acoustical ceiling tile.  “‘M definitely sure Marty knows nothin,’” Rick sighed, “‘bout anything at all, tell you the truth.”  
  
“Right,” Daryl said, both men inhaling their drinks until the sounds of their straws hitting bottom could be heard through the small coffeehouse, both men chuckling in amusement as they did so.  
  
“Later dude!” Daryl yelled at Marty.  
  
“Later!” Marty called back.  
  
Dispensing with the cups in the trash bin outside, Rick put his helmet back on and jumped on the bike once more, making himself comfortable on the seat behind Daryl.  
  
“You thinkin’ this ’s a lost cause?” Daryl asked while putting on his helmet.  “I mean, if they ain’t in on it, chances are Gareth ain’t either.”  
  
“Yeah, I was thinkin’ the same damn thang,” Rick said.  
  
“But you still wanna go to the last Starbucks?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Jus’ so we can eliminate him as a suspect and hey!” Rick said excitedly, “Bullmosas!”  
  
“I can get behind that,” Daryl smiled.  
  
“Well I been gettin’ behind you all mornin,’” Rick snickered.  
  
Daryl started up the bike and pulled out, heading down Main street until they came to Fifth Ave.  
  
Rick climbed off the bike.  “Did you _actually_ do a wheelie the whole way here?!”  
  
“Sorry,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
This was by far the biggest Starbucks Rick had ever seen.  
  
It was completely different from the other two.  
  
There were big, overstuffed couches strewn about.  Wooden tables and splashy upholstered chairs littered the main lobby.  It was dimly lit by colorful, hanging, blown-glass lanterns.  There were two large Plasma monitors adorning the walls and a long counter with many baked pastries in the back.  
  
Of course, when another cheerful, buoyant girl, holding a tray of confections, bounded toward them, a spring in her step, Rick realized that _some_ things were still the same.  
  
“Hi,” the girl beamed, “would you like to try…”  
  
“God!  What is _wrong_ with you people?!?” Daryl hissed insistently.  “No, he will not try one of your damn cake pops or a maraschino…”  
  
“Macchiato,” the girl corrected.  
  
“Macchiato lollipop or anythin’ else you can scrape up to put on a fuckin’ stick!  You people are evil!” Daryl spat as he held his head in his hand.  “Starbuck's is the sixth ring of hell!”  
  
“Sorry,” the girl winced.  
  
“’S okay sweetie.  We’ve probably had too much caffeine,” Rick shrugged.  
  
“It happens.”  The girl smiled at Rick and while Daryl’s back was turned, passed some lollipops to Rick, who promptly stashed them in the pockets of his jeans.  
  
Rick and Daryl made their way to the counter, where a girl was only too happy to take their order.  “Welcome.  It’s a…”  
  
“Here’s a fuckin’ twenty,” Daryl growled.  “Give us two bullmosas.  You don’t tell us what a great day it is and you can keep the rest of the money.”  
  
The girl took the money and rang up the drinks expeditiously and silently, passing the order onto to the barista who would make their order.  
  
Daryl looked over one side of the coffeehouse, while Rick looked around the other side, trying to see if they could spot Gareth.  
  
Their drinks were made promptly and both men grabbed them, making short order of them as they drank them down.  
  
“These sure are tasty,” Daryl said begrudgingly.  
  
“Did you jus’ say ‘tasty?’” Rick giggled while Daryl rolled his eyes to the ceiling.    
  
“‘M jus’ gonna go over and order two more for the road,” Daryl smirked.  
  
“You seen Gareth?” Rick asked, a bit too loudly.  
  
Everyone in the coffeehouse stopped what they were doing, looking worriedly at everyone else.  The girl behind the counter looked around, took Daryl’s money and then pointed her finger toward a back door, Rick noting how she still wasn’t saying anything.  
  
Both men headed to the door the girl had indicated which read ‘Employees Only.’  
  
It was open slightly and they could see what was going on inside.  
  
Gareth stood with a clipboard, pacing back and forth in front of four Starbucks’ employees, all standing at attention, each one glancing nervously about at the others.  
  
“Now, I’m a reasonable man,” Gareth said as he stopped at each person in the line, to look directly at them.  “I know there’s six five pound bags of coffee beans missing.  Not _around_ six bags.  Or _maybe_ six bags.  Or _approximately_ six bags.  But six bags _exactly_.  That coffee is worth quite a lot of money on the streets.”  He stopped at one employee in particular.  He had spiky blonde hair and a worried look on his face.  “Sam?”  
  
“Gareth?” Sam said, jumping just a bit, a sheen of sweat breaking on his forehead.  
  
“I saw you hide stuff in a bag.  Saw you put the bag back in your locker, so you could take it home after your shift.  That was _smart,_ ” Gareth said, punctuating the ’t’ in the word ‘smart.’  “Now what was in it?  What was in the bag Sam?”  
  
“Fuck you Gareth!” Sam spit out shakily.  “Like I’m gonna tell you!”  
  
Gareth smiled smugly before he turned to the girl standing next to him.  “Ana.”  
  
“Gareth,” the scared girl said as she watched Gareth grab hold of her name tag.  
  
“I know you two have been dating, despite the very clear _no fraternization policy_ we enforce here,” Gareth said as he rolled his eyes, “you don’t tell me what’s in the bag, she gets fired.”  
  
“Dude!  You can’t do that!” Sam said.  
  
“Just tell me,” Gareth sighed.  “Is it really worth it?”  
  
“Alright.  There’s three five pound bags of Pike Place Roast.  And two five pound bags of French Roast.  And one five pound bag of Blonde Veranda Blend.  There’s some of the new flavored lollipops, and a few candy bars.  And a red cup, with the Starbuck’s logo on it.  It’s the one I’m gonna use to drink all that illicit coffee in and think about you, _Gareth,_ ” Sam said spitefully.  
  
Gareth rolled his eyes.  “You’re fired,” he said to Sam, then motioned to another employee, “go get the bag.”  
  
“Yeah?!  Well _fuck you_ Gareth!” Sam yelled as he made for the back door.  “Starbucks is like the…like the _evil_ empire.  The CEOs are the Emperor.  And you’re like one of their damn Sith lords!  You’re…you’re _Darth Roast!_   That’s what you are!” the boy kept screaming before he slammed the outside door open.  
  
“Fuck you!” Gareth screamed after him.  “I’m not evil.  I’m a Jedi.  I’m a _fucking_ coffee Jedi!  All you are is a sad little Jar Jar Binks!”    
  
“Um, Gareth?  Are we okay?” Ana asked shyly.  
  
“What?  Oh yeah,” Gareth said as he waved her away.  “All of you go back to work,” he said as he composed himself once again.  
  
Gareth then turned around and looked directly at Rick and Daryl.  
  
“Hey!  Rick!  Daryl!” Gareth said in surprise, not unpleasantly.  “What are you guys doing here?”  
  
“Um, bullmosas!” Rick said as he raised his cup, Daryl doing the same.  
  
Both cups were empty.  
  
Luckily, they had more on the way.  
  
“Those are empty,” Gareth said.  “How many bullmosas have you had today guys?” he asked warily.  
  
“How do you know this ain’t our first?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Cause you’re both acting like human vibrators with fresh batteries, that’s why,” Gareth sighed.  “So, how many?”  
  
“Well, this is the… _third_ one?” Rick said as he looked at Daryl uncertainly.  
  
“Yeah, we each had three so far,” Daryl said.    
  
“ _Three?!_   Fuck!  That’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart,” Gareth burst out.  
  
Just then Rick and Daryl’s order came up.  “Two bullmosas!” the barista called out.  
  
“Oooh, that’s us!” Daryl said jumping over to the counter to grab the drinks.  
  
“No,” Gareth said as he pushed the drinks away from the men.  “These aren’t the drinks you want.”  
  
“Your Jedi mind tricks don’t work on us,” Daryl growled at Gareth.  
  
Just then Rick found a pair of fedoras and some Ray Ban sunglasses a customer had left behind.  “Look Daryl!”  Rick put the hat on and then the glasses, handing the other set to Daryl, who promptly put his set on.  “Hey Jake,” Rick said.  
  
“Elwood,” Daryl snickered.  
  
“We’re on a mission from Gawd,” Rick giggled out, both men laughing.  
  
“Dump these,” Gareth sighed as he gave the bullmosas back to the barista.  “We’re putting these guys on a ‘no serve Red Bull’ list.  Gimme those,” he said as he grabbed the glasses and hats from the two men.  It was then that his gaze raked over Rick very closely.  “Rick?  I just noticed.  Wow!  You look…really _good_ ,” he smiled.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Rick said as he stopped laughing and then became serious.  “While we were out…”  
  
“Aw just give him your damn phone Gareth!  He needs it,” Daryl groused.  “And stop lookin’ at Rick like he’s some damn cake pop.”  
  
“Oh, that reminds me,” Gareth said.  “Have you guys tried our cake pops?  We have…”  
  
“Oh for fucksake!  You people are worse than drug dealers,” Daryl huffed.  “Phone.  Now.”  
  
“Yeah, about that,” Gareth winced.  “I got the most interesting texts from Alex and Marty.  They told me Rick and Daryl might be in to use my phone, so here you are,” he said as he steepled his hands together and pointed them at the two men.  “Look, Rick, I’m really sorry about what my idiot brother did yesterday, with the video footage.  But except for the video you saw, and some, even I have to admit, _pretty funny_ memes, there’s nothing else.  Really.”  
  
“Look,” Rick sighed.  “Someone did stuff…stuff and _thangs_ to me last night.  I guess ’m eliminatin’ suspects so I started with Alex and Marty, cause they were pretty obvious...and now you.”  
  
“What _things?_ ” Gareth asked, suddenly intrigued.  
  
“They _bathed_ me,” Rick said.  Turning away so he wasn’t looking Gareth in the eyes, he blushed and mumbled, “and _shaved_ me, in areas that never been shaved ‘fore.”  
  
“How out of it _were_ you?” Gareth sputtered.  
  
“Well Daryl was there too.  He didn’t wake up either,” Rick sulked.  
  
“You were there!?” Gareth said incredulously, one eyebrow practically raising to his hairline.  
  
“Aw fuck you.  We fell asleep,” Daryl snarled.  
  
“Look, it wasn’t me or my brother or my best friend,” Gareth said assuredly.  
  
“You can see why I’d think that, after yesterday and the damn penguins,” Rick said.  “‘Sides, ‘m sure it wasn’t you, but the other two…”  
  
“We were up pretty late last night,” Gareth nodded.  “We were playing Road Rash and Doom on my PS3.”  
  
“Aha!” Rick said, a sudden headache forming in his skull.  “You can’t play Road Rash or Doom, which are original Playstation games, on a PS3.”  
  
“Unless it’s backwards compatible, which it is,” Gareth said as he crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“Yeah, shoulda told you that,” Daryl said.  “Merle goes down there and plays Crash Bandicoot on there all the time.”  
  
“Oh,” Rick pouted then looked up excitedly.  “Could I play Road Rash on there someday?”  
  
“Yes,” Gareth leered, “you can play on my Playstation Rick.”  
  
And that didn’t sound dirty at all.  
  
Not one little bit.  
  
“We should head out,” Rick said.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said.  “At least we’re awake enough to start questionin' the whole damn building.”  
  
“Now Rick, hold on tight!” Gareth shouted.  “Wouldn’t want you to vibrate right off Daryl’s seat,” he chuckled.  
  
Both men groaned and started to walk outside before they heard Gareth call out to them one more time.  “Hey Rick!”  
  
“Yeah?” Rick said as he turned around.  
  
“I can tell you for sure it wasn’t me who did…what they did to you last night,” Gareth smiled.  
  
Rick shrugged.  He already knew it wasn’t Gareth but he figured he’d bite.  “Why’s that?”  
  
“Because I would of wanted you awake for it the _whole_ time,” he said as he winked salaciously at Rick and turned back to work.  
  
“Was he jus’ _flirting_ with me?!” Rick sputtered.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Daryl said as he squinted into the sunlight, “there’s somethin' you oughta know ‘bout Gareth…”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something you should know. Hubby and oldest son are gearheads when it comes to bikes. So when Daryl first rode up in that bike at the end of season 5, they were scrambling to find out just what the hell was on it. First thing they both noticed were the upside down forks. LOL!
> 
> Also, bullmosas are REAL. The indie coffee shop located next to my restaurant make them and my employees are ADDICTED to them.
> 
> The flavored Starbuck's lollipops are not. That is a total fabrication of my mind. 
> 
> Sorry about the Blue's Brothers reference at the end. I remember watching that movie endlessly at frat parties in the early 80's. That and Animal House.
> 
> And yes, that was Sam, who was killed first in the trough scene in the first episode of the 5th season - also yes, that was Ana, the one who had hooked up with Sam and who's leg had been trampled on. 
> 
> I think you could figure out the bag scene. ;)


	11. When all else fails, just act stupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Rick and Daryl are still on the trail of the serial groomer...

 

 

“So…Gareth?” Rick asked cautiously as he hopped off Daryl’s bike and took off the helmet, having reached their destination back at the apartment building.  “Is he gay?”  
  
“Naw, not gay.  Bi, though,” Daryl responded as they made their way up the stairs.  
  
“Oh,” Rick said, then frowned.  
  
“You okay with that?” Daryl asked as he paused on the stairwell.  
  
“What?  Oh no!” Rick said quickly.  “O’ course ‘m okay with that.  Pfft!  ‘M not an _asshole,_ ” he scoffed.  “I just don’t get that one.  I mean, I get when the opposite sex is attracted to each other, and when the same sex is attracted to each other but I never did get when someone is attracted to both.  Guess ‘m too much of a country boy, huh?”  
  
“Naw, but I know what you mean.  Way I figure it, people are jus’ different.  I mean, for Gareth, it don’t matter who he’s attracted to.  He’s kinda greedy,” Daryl said as he continued up the stairs.  “And yeah, you should prolly stay away from him.  He seems to have his eye on you.”  
  
Well that was a shame.   
  
He seemed like an alright guy.  
  
He made one hell of a cup of coffee.  
  
And he had a backwards compatible Playstation Three.  
  
“And I know what you’re gonna say,” Daryl said as he rounded on Rick.  “I’ll buy a damn backwards compatible Playstation Three.  You can play on mine.”  
  
And that definitely did not sound dirty either.  Not one little bit.  
  
A brief image in his mind of Gareth and Daryl arguing over whose game unit Rick would play on flitted through his mind.  
  
Also, the fact that Daryl always seemed to read his mind was a bit intimidating.  
  
 _Awesome,_ but intimidating.  
  
“O’ course, now I’ll never get Merle outta the apartment, but oh well,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“So you were saying,” Rick said.  
  
“Yeah.  I figure people are all different.  You got men who like women, and women who like men and women who like women and men who like men and then people like Gareth that like both,” Daryl said as he stopped climbing and paused once again, looking directly at Rick.  “Then you got people who it don’t matter what they are, ‘cause ’s the _soul_ that speaks to ‘em, that calls out to ‘em, you know?  It don’t matter if they’re male or female, it ain’t…what’s that word they use…it ain’t gender-specific.  Sometimes the soul sees another soul and its like _kapow!_   And that’s it.  It don’t matter what packagin’ it comes in, there’s a link there and there ain’t nothin’ no one can do ‘bout it.”  Daryl sighed and continued up the stairs, muttering under his breath, “o’ course, the packagin’ could still be really nice and jus' what ya always wanted.”  
  
Wow.  
  
Listening to Daryl expound on his philosophy, his way of thinking and point of view, made Rick realize something about the important thing his new friend was trying to tell him.  
  
That Daryl was incredibly and unequivocally zen about such matters of the heart and that Rick’s outlook should be as such.  
  
Then again, there would be a time, much, _much_ later, that Rick would kick himself for being such an oblivious dunderhead.  
  
Daryl and Rick continued their trek up the stairs, until they came to the third floor.  
  
Rick looked over at Daryl, “so you on the same page as me as to who the next suspect would be?”  
  
Daryl nodded before both men replied “Beth” in unison.  
  
“She’s in school now, but Glenn and Maggie ‘re home,” Daryl shrugged.  “They’re both takin’ the whole week off ‘cause of the wedding.”  
  
“Well, ’s a start,” Rick said.  “Maybe we’ll find some clues or get a lead while we’re there.”  
  
“Gonna go all CSI on their ass?” Daryl chuckled.  “Use a black light to find your long lost beard?”  
  
“Thinkin’ of going through her drawers to find locks of my hair,” Rick chuckled.    
  
The porno movie in his head started playing again.  
  
Only this time, it showed the dirty old cop going through the young, hot coed’s drawers looking at her panties.  
  
“Black light sounds better,” Rick groused.  
  
Both men stopped in front of the door marked 3C before Daryl started knocking.   
  
“Hold on!” Glenn shouted from the other side.  “I told you to call Maggie, Dale,” Glenn said as he opened the door, stopping mid-sentence in surprise.  “Oh hey guys!  We thought you might be Dale.  We’re expecting deliveries…never mind…come on in.”  
  
Maggie came running up to the door, also a look of surprise on her face.  “Oh!  Rick.  Daryl.  _Rick,_ ” she cooed as she took in Rick’s new look.  
  
Rick wondered if he should start selling tickets.    
  
“Yeah, yeah.  Rick’s got a jawline.  Who knew?!” Daryl said as he pushed his way into the apartment.  
  
The unit was an eclectic blend of modern with a diverse, vibrant palette.  There were bright colors on every surface while a blue couch with the most vivid hue sat in the middle of the living room.  
  
It represented the bold and vivacious side of Maggie quite well really.  
  
Of course, it also represented Glenn’s willingness to _defer_ to the bold and vivacious side of Maggie’s strong will.  
  
“What’s up?” Glenn asked.  
  
“My phone doesn’t have reception,” Rick said.  “Was wonderin’ if I could use yours.”  
  
“You don’t have reception either Daryl?” Maggie asked.  
  
“Merle took off with my phone,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Well sure.  You can use mine,” Maggie said.  “Oh!  I need to know if you’ll have your kids for sure on Saturday.  You know,” Maggie continued as she saw the confused look on Rick’s face, “will you be bringin’ ‘em to the wedding.  I sure hope so.  Daddy’d love to meet ‘em.”  
  
“Um, oh well, I guess,” Rick sputtered.  “Yeah, they’ll be there.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll pencil them in,” Maggie said as she took out her phone and started typing in numbers.  
  
“Didn’t know if I was,” Rick continued to stammer before Maggie cut him off.  
  
“’S okay,” Maggie said as she waved her hand in the air.  “Kids ‘re allowed at the weddin’.  It's not an adults only kinda thing.”  
  
Rick hadn’t even been sure _he_ had been invited to the wedding.  
  
That seemed to settle that.  
  
“Every person in the town where I grew up is gonna wanna hold Judith.  You won’t be hurtin’ for any sitters so you can dance and have fun while there, don’t you worry,” Maggie assured.  
  
Dancing?  
  
He remembered all the times he went out dancing with Lori and Shane, the latter always taking the spotlight all for himself, overshadowing Rick wherever they went, him always feeling the fool no matter how well he thought he was doing, and the former chastising Rick for his two left feet and her pleas to not embarrass her in front of her friends.  
  
“That depends, are people with two left feet allowed on the dance floor?” Rick chuckled, echoing the mocking words of his ex-wife.  
  
“See sweetie,” Maggie said as she smiled at Glenn, “Rick’s got that problem too.”    
  
Glenn groaned, then smiled, “just follow Daryl’s lead.  You’ll be fine.”  
  
Rick turned to Daryl, the other nodding his head in agreement, a smile on his face, “you ever see the movie ‘Ballroom Dancing?’”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick answered warily.  
  
“Yeah, well we won’t be doin’ that.  Jus’ havin’ fun,” Daryl grinned.  
  
“Oh!  Guess what?!  I just talked to Bob.  He’s doin’ all the catering,” Maggie said to Rick.  “It's gonna be barbecue of course, but he decided to go with a shish kabob theme.  And not just the meat’s gonna be on sticks, but _everything_ else too.  Appetizers on sticks, veggies on sticks.  He’s even gotta dessert on sticks.  Everything’ll be on sticks!” Maggie smiled.  
  
“Da Hell!  What is wrong with Bob!?” Daryl shouted.  “Is he on _crack!?_   Why does everybody gotta put everythin’ on a stick.  Why can’t we eat with knives and forks, like God intended!  Suppose your wedding cake’s on sticks too,” he grumbled.  
  
“Oh no, you can eat _that_ with a fork,” Maggie smirked, “jus’ like God intended.”  
  
Maggie’s ringtone could be heard before she answered the phone.  “Hey Dale!…Oh good…yeah…we’ll be right down.  Thanks!”  
  
“Hey guys, that’s the delivery we been waiting for,” Maggie said as she got up.  “You go ahead and use my phone or Glenn’s.  Iffen you need Beth’s phone, it’s in her room on her bed.  She forgot it this mornin.’  Come on Glenn,” she said as she left the apartment, Glenn close behind.  
  
Rick and Daryl regarded each other.  
  
“That was easier than I thought,” Daryl said happily.  “We got carte blanche use of their damn phones.”  
  
“Yeah we can go through all three.  Right, let’s start with Glenn.  He’s the one I least suspect,” Rick said as he went for the young man’s smartphone.  
  
“You suspect Maggie?” Daryl asked incredulously.  
  
“No, but I suspect Glenn the _least_.  ’S what I just said, weren’t you listenin?’” Rick asked.  
  
Daryl shook his head while pointing at one of the apps on the phone.  “Hey, look, click on ‘my movies.’”  
  
Rick clicked on the app.  
  
There were several movies listed.  
  
He clicked on the first one.  
  
It was a rather short clip of Glenn standing in the middle of what Rick suspected was their bedroom.  He had nothing on but a pair of briefs and a headband around his head.  He was performing several different martial arts poses.  Despite the soundtrack playing in the background, a very fitting ‘Kung Fu Fighting,’ both Daryl and Rick could make out Maggie’s giggling as she filmed the spectacle.  
  
“That’s really…um,” Rick stuttered.  
  
“Awkward,” Daryl snickered.    
  
“Okay, we need to close that,” Rick said, both men still engrossed as they continued to watch Glenn doing more martial arts poses.  
  
They closed the movie and opened the next one.  It was Glenn taking his motorcycle license test.  “I heard ‘bout this,” Daryl said as he shook his head in disbelief.  “Kid can’t get his license to save his life.  He’s taken it like a million times now.”  
  
They watched the first clip, as Glenn started up the small bike. Before he could get on, it drove off without him.    
  
The next clip was Glenn taking the test on a _different_ day with a _different_ instructor.  This time, he got on the bike first, started it, and then promptly fell off the back as the bike drove away again.  
  
The clip after that was _another_ day and _another_ instructor.  Glenn got on the bike, started it, and managed to drive forward, hitting every single cone in doing so.  When he came to a full stop, the bike pitched forward and threw him off.  Glenn bounced up off the ground with his hands in the air shouting, “I’m okay!”  
  
In all three movies, Maggie had been holding the camera phone, all the while her incessant giggling being heard in the background.  
  
“‘M feelin’ a mite guilty ‘bout lookin’ at these,” Daryl winced.  
  
“Me too,” Rick said.  
  
“Le’s see what Maggie’s got on _her_ phone of Glenn,” Daryl said excitedly, Rick bouncing over to the young woman’s phone while chuckling.  
  
“Click on the ‘my movies’ app,” Rick said, Daryl doing so.  
  
There was quite the list of movies, so they started with the first one.  
  
“Are you sure Mags?  Are you sure I don’t look stupid?” Glenn whined.  
  
“You look great!” Maggie assured her fiance while taking the movie, giggling as she did so.  
  
Rick and Daryl stood with their mouths hanging open as they took in the image before them.  
  
There stood Glenn, wearing a corset, fishnets and platform heels.  He was completely done up in heavy eye-liner, lipstick and blush coloring.  He was also sporting a very curly wig.  
   
“I don’t think I make a very good Frankenfurter,” Glenn pouted.  
  
“You look amazing!” Maggie said in all seriousness, obviously trying hard not to laugh.  
  
“Okay but you _gotta_ promise the other guys can _never_ see this,” Glenn pleaded.  
  
Rick tore his eyes away from the movie clip and looked up in complete amazement.  “You mean, this is normal?  It’s…it’s a _thang?!_ ”  
  
Daryl, who had been snickering, suddenly stopped.  “Whadduya mean?”  
  
“‘Fore Lori and me were married, she made me do the same damn thang!  It was some party.  She dressed me up in the corset, the fishnets, the make-up.  Everythang!  Said it would be fun,” Rick pouted.  
  
“Wig too?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Naw,” Rick fidgeted while looking away.  “My hair was long…back then…it was all over the place…she just dyed it black for the night, okay?!”  
  
Daryl closed out the movie and looked seriously at Rick.  “She made you…what happened?!” he sputtered.  
  
“Like I said, it was this party.  I told her I’d do it, but no one could know it was me.  She told everyone there I was her cousin,” Rick continued.  “I walked ‘round all night pullin’ wedgies outta my ass.  Lori was laughing the whole damn time.  O’ course, the last laugh was on her.”  
  
“Why’s that?” Daryl smiled.  
  
“Gotta bunch of phone numbers…from men she thought were cute.  That and Shane kept grabbin’ my ass,” Rick snickered.  
  
“What’d he say when he found out it was you?” Daryl sputtered.  
  
“Dunno.  Haven’t told 'im yet,” Rick shrugged before breaking down in laughter, Daryl joining him.  “Know what Daryl?  I don’t think Glenn did it.  He can’t even find his _own_ balls, let alone _mine_ to shave ‘em.”  
  
“Yeah, but Maggie sure’s got a mean streak on her,” Daryl sighed.  “I mean, takin’ those movies of him trying to get his license, and makin’ those poses and then makin’ him wear that get-up with the heels and make-up.”  
  
“Well, come on, wearin’ the fishnets and heels ain’t _that_ weird,” Rick defended.  “Don’t make me…I mean, _him,_ weird or nothin.’”  
  
“You still have those pictures,” Daryl asked as he whispered conspiratorially.  
  
“Knock it off!” Rick sputtered.    
  
Unfortunately, Lori got those in the divorce too.  
  
“And no, I don’t think ’s Maggie.  She’s too busy tormentin’ Glenn to torment me,” Rick surmised.  
  
“You know what that means,” Daryl sighed as both men regarded the smaller bedroom past the bathroom.  
  
“Okay, le’s do this,” Rick muttered.  
  
He knew it was going to come to this, he just wished he didn’t have to.  
  
Yes, invading Gareth’s group and Maggie and Glenn’s privacy was one thing, but this was on a whole other level.  
  
Walking into Beth’s bedroom, Rick took note that it wasn’t so bad in there.  
  
It was less girly and frilly than his own damn apartment.  
  
There was a twin daybed, situated right under the open window, adorned with a patchwork quilt, some embroidered pillows and a small arrangement of teddy bears of different sizes at the foot of the aforementioned bed.  
  
“Iffen there was anything of you in that damn phone of hers, she woulda taken it with her, watchin’ it all damn day, not forgettin’ it on her bed,” Daryl said assuredly.  
  
“Yeah, I know, but we gotta look.  Jus’ in case,” Rick said as he looked down at the phone as if the thing would suddenly jump up and bite him.  “Hey!  Do we know if Maggie and Glenn ‘re still down there?”  
  
Daryl peeked out the window.  “They’re still there…talkin’ to the delivery guy.”  
  
“Good,” Rick breathed out as he opened the phone.   
  
He saw the same ‘my movies’ app as the others.  
  
Clicking on it, he saw only one movie listed.  
  
It was titled RICK AND ME.  
  
“Well, that don’t bode well,” Daryl huffed.  
  
“You think?” Rick winced.  
  
Rick cringed as he opened the movie clip.  He relaxed when he saw that instead of it being his bed in the middle of the night with him lying on it while being groomed, which he half expected, he saw Beth’s bed instead.  
  
The very one they were leaning against at the moment.  
  
And instead of dim lighting, it was the bright light of day, the morning sunshine coming in through the very window they were standing near.  
  
Beth was on the bed, sitting up with one of the teddy bears propped in front of her.  It was the fuzziest one by far, its spiraled and looped fur covering it’s tiny brown body.  
  
“Oh Rick.  I knew you would come to me,” Beth said as she held the hands of the bear, crushing it to her chest in imitation of a hug.  
  
“So…that’s supposed to be _me?!_ ” Rick grimaced.  
  
“Look at how curly the damn thing is.  O’ course ’s you,” Daryl said.  
  
“How could I stay away from you.  I think ‘bout you all the time,” Beth said in a deep voice, as she held the teddy bear out at arm’s length.  
  
“Now, I don’t sound like that,” Rick said indignantly.  
  
“Ssh,” Daryl shushed, “’s gettin’ to the good part.”  
  
“Oh Rick!  Make love to me!”  She started to rub her face against the bear’s, the bear starting to run it’s little nose down over her open shirt, a lacey camisole peeking out underneath.  
  
Beth moaned as the bear made its way down her body.  
  
“Wow!  You work fast,” Daryl chuckled.  
  
Beth made the teddy bear’s head pop up.  “I need you, now!” she said in that low voice again, imitating Rick’s timbre.  
  
Beth unzipped her jeans as she started to have the bear rub its nose along her…  
  
“Oh my God!  Teddy Bear me is _going down_ on Beth!” Rick yelled.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said as he peered more closely into the phone.  “Teddy bear you’s really got it going on.  Look at the way she’s writhing ‘round.”  
  
“ _Close it!  Close it!_ ” Rick yelled frantically, both men trying to close out the movie before their eyes could see anymore, (already too late as those images were now scorched into their memory).  In their frenzied haste to end the movie, the phone slipped out of their hands, both men fumbling with it, accidentally throwing it out the open window.  
  
Both men watched as the phone sailed down the three stories and landed on the pavement into a million pieces at Maggie and Glenn’s feet.  
  
Making a face, Rick shouted out, “Sorry!”  
  
“What happened!?” Maggie called up.  
  
“It slipped,” Rick shrugged.  “I’ll buy her a new one…sorry.”  
  
Rick pulled himself back in from the window.  
  
“They’re onto us,” Rick said as he leaned against one of the stuffed animals.  
  
“Rick,” Daryl said slowly.  “That’s teddy bear you you’re squeezin.’”  
  
Rick looked down at the offensive (and ridiculously curly) bear and shuddered, accidentally picking up the bear and throwing it to Daryl, who promptly threw the bear back to Rick, who in response threw it back to Daryl, who fumbled with it, sending the thing sailing out the window.  
  
Of course, landing on the wreckage that was once Beth’s phone, at Maggie and Glenn’s feet.  
  
“What’s going on up there?!” Glenn shouted up.  
  
“It…uh…slipped,” Rick winced again.  “‘Jus’ call me butterfingers today,” he nervously chuckled.  
  
“For fuck-sake, stay away from the window before you guys slip out too,” Glenn shouted back as he shook his head, getting back into the argument Maggie was having with the delivery man.  
  
“Okay,” Rick said as he placed his hand on his hip.  “’S not any of them.”  
  
“Right,” Daryl said, agreeing quickly, as they both left the apartment hastily.  
  
Shutting the door behind them, Rick looked over at Daryl.  “We’ll never speak of _any_ of this ever again.”  
  
“On it man,” Daryl said.  
  
“So now what?  Door to door?” Rick asked.  
  
“Well, I think we should hit the next person who we know’s got a thing for you,” Daryl said.  
  
“There’s another one?” Rick asked incredulously.  
  
“Michonne,” Daryl said.  
  
“ _Michonne?_ ” Rick repeated.  
  
That just couldn’t be right, could it?  
  
“But she’s got,” Rick started.  
  
“Don’t matter.  I’ve seen the way she’s been lookin’ at you.  Come on,” Daryl said, “Andrea likes cock once in a while.  Michonne ain’t no different.  She likes a little cock every now and then too.”  
  
“Did you just call my cock little?” Rick teased.  
  
“You know what I mean _ass_ ,” Daryl smiled.  “Come on.”  
  
Both men made their way up to the very top floor, and knocked on 6A.  
  
A pretty blonde woman with the most pale pink lips and clear blue eyes answered.  She happened to be holding the cutest little boy Rick had seen in a long time.  
  
“Hi!” Rick said.  “Um we’re…”  
  
Daryl cut in,  “Amy this is…”  
  
“Rick!” Amy squealed as she smiled.  “I guessed who you were from the way Michonne’s been going on and on and on…”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Daryl huffed.  “The girls home?”  
  
“Yeah.  Come on in,” she said as she kept looking at Rick.  “Michonne said you had some scruff.  She said it was nice.  But you don’t have it now,” she trailed off as she looked at Rick’s face.  
  
Clearing his throat, Rick looked at the little boy and smiled.  “Is this Andre?”  
  
“Yeah, this is him.  I’m Amy, like Daryl said.  I’m the _au pair,_ ” she said as she made air quotes, “which is a fancy term for nanny or live in help or _indentured slave!_ ” she yelled out to the back area.  “Andrea’s my sister.”  
  
“Oh!  Nice to meet you,” Rick said pleasantly as he held out his hand.  
  
Instead of shaking the outstretched hand, Amy jumped up and hugged Rick, kissing him on the side of the face, “welcome to the building.  Oh, you smell _nice._ ”  
  
One thing was for sure.  
  
People were certainly friendly around here.  
  
Rick looked around the large apartment.  It was decorated in a modern classical style.  There were many shades of creams and grays, the only splash of color being all the vibrant works of modern art on the walls.  
  
“Rick!  Daryl!  You came up to visit us!” Michonne said as she entered the foyer, a big smile on her face.  She was dressed in a very smart, yet provocative, business suit, the outfit hugging every curve of her body.  “Andrea and I aren’t due into court until later so I’m glad you caught us.”  Michonne walked up to Rick when she noticed his new look.  
  
Just then Andrea walked in, dressed in the same vein;  smart, yet sexy, business attire.  
  
“Well, now, don’t you look nice,” Michonne smiled as she continued to walk around him, appreciating someone _else’s_ hard work.  
  
Which reminded him of why they were there in the first place.   
  
“Oh my God, he does look nice!” Andrea said as now both women had intruded into his space, playing with his curls and rubbing along his jawline.  
  
He wondered what the people in the building’s definition of personal space was and if it meant anything beyond climbing into his pants with him was acceptable.  
  
“Okay ladies,” Rick said as he broke away, finding himself moving closer to Daryl.  
  
“So what have you two been up to this morning?” Andrea asked.  
  
“Been to Starbucks,” Daryl shrugged.  “Got massive caffeine headaches,” he grimaced.  
  
Headache was an understatement.  
  
It felt like someone was hitting his skull with a hammer.  
  
“I’ve got _just_ the thing for you!” Andrea said.  “Ginger tea.  I’ll put some hot water on,” she said as she made her way to the elaborate kitchen.  
  
“’S okay Andrea!” Daryl called out.  
  
Just then a dog shuffled into the foyer.  It was one of those Dachshund breeds.  Only the ones Rick had seen were usually very small and thin.  This one was rather chubby in the belly area, making it look like a footstool.  
  
“Who’s this?” Rick asked as he got down on the ground to pat the dog.  
  
“That’s Lulu,” Amy said as she put Andre down next to the rotund dog.  
  
Andre got up and walked over to Rick, holding his hands up in the air.  
  
Rick smiled at the little boy, picked him up and swung him around, the little boy giggling as he did so.  
  
“More!” the boy called out.  
  
Rick swung the toddler up and gave him a raspberry on his tummy, the boy shrieking with laughter.  
  
“Okay Rick, you need to put the baby down,” Michonne said seriously.  
  
“Oh I’m sorry.  I used to play with Carl like that,” Rick said apologetically.  “Was I too rough?”  
  
“No, my ovaries just exploded and you’re making me want to mate with you right now so in case you plan on following through with something like that, you need to step away from my son,” Michonne said, as she sauntered back up to Rick, once more getting into his space.  
  
Never had a seductive come on been so terrifying.  
  
“Sorry,” Rick said as he placed Andre back on the ground, backing away.  “Can I pet the dog?”  
  
“Lulu is safe,” Michonne smiled.  
  
The dog sat up and started licking Rick’s hand as he pet her.  “Who takes her for walks?”  
  
“Me,” Amy scoffed.  “If by ‘walks,’ you mean me carrying her around wherever we go.  And let me tell you, she hasn’t been a lap dog in ages.  At least she can shuffle around the apartment a little.”  
  
Rick made his way back up as Andrea came back into the living area with two steaming cups of tea.  
  
“Drink this,” Andrea said.  “Be careful, it’s hot.”  
  
Now, had Rick been able to look back on the events that had transpired in the next five minutes, he would have most certainly conducted himself in an entirely different manner.  
  
But Michonne was still giving him those looks, the looks that he was now very aware of thanks to Daryl, and completely forgot the little safety tip he had learned when he was a small child right before going to drink something that could potentially be very hot.    
  
He would have blown on the damn liquid instead of chugging it down as if it were a cold bottle of beer on a rather hot day.  
  
Of course, had he been privy to the events that would have transpired, he would have just left the damn apartment.  
  
Maybe even Atlanta.  
  
Instead, Rick took one look at Michonne and that knowing smile and drank the hot liquid.  
  
The very, very _hot_ liquid.  
  
“Oh!  Hot!  Hot!  Hot!” Rick panted as he waved at his mouth, not really knowing why he was fanning his mouth as that trick never really worked.  
  
“I know what’ll work!” Michonne said as she ran into the kitchen, coming back immediately with a long, ice-cold popsicle.  
  
“Hey!  Rootbeer creamsicle!” Rick said happily as he chucked the wrapper and shoved the frozen treat into his mouth all the way.  Rick moaned, then sighed blissfully, “much better.  Thank you.”  
  
He licked around the top of the popsicle then pushed it all back in and pulled it back out slowly.  
  
He seemed to have an audience as the women watched him in awe.  “So that’s how you do it,” Amy commented.  
  
“ _Oh for the love of!_ ” Daryl shouted as he threw his hands in the air.  “Couldn’t you give him ice?!  Like normal people do?!”  
  
The three women continued watching Rick before Andrea shook her head clear.  “Maybe we better take that away,” she said as she grabbed the thing out of Rick’s hands.  
  
“Hey!” Rick pouted.  “Why’d you do that?”  
  
“Because you were giving the popsicle a blow job and I thought Daryl’s head was gonna explode,” she said before walking to the kitchen.  
  
Turning bright red, Rick decided leaving Atlanta wasn’t enough.  
  
He heard Alaska was nice this time of year.  
  
“So, what’s up?” Michonne asked.  
  
“Um, I need to borrow a phone.  Mine’s not workin,’” Rick said, the lie starting to get more lame the more he used it.  
  
“What about Daryl’s?” Andrea asked.  
  
“Merle took it.  Dunno where he’s off with it,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
Just then a chiming sound, which sounded suspiciously like a ring tone, came from Daryl’s pant’s pocket.  
  
“Sounds like Merle went off with it,” Andrea sputtered in laughter, “in your _pants._ ”  
  
“Whaddya talkin’ ‘bout?” Daryl asked, his phone ringing once again.  
  
Oh, they were going for the 'playing stupid' approach.  
  
“You gonna answer that?” Michonne asked, one eyebrow practically hitting her hairline.  
  
“No, cause...I dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Daryl said as he looked around.  
  
The phone chimed again.  
  
“The thing that isn’t your phone,” Andrea said, “is ringing again.”  
  
“You hear anythin’ Rick?” Daryl asked, his voice getting a bit higher.  
  
“Not a thang,” Rick said as he shook his head.  
  
The phone chimed again, like the bells from hell itself.  
  
“You can’t pretend you don’t hear it, because we all hear it,” Andrea said as she pointed to Michonne and Amy.  
  
“’S your word against ours,” Rick said.  “And you’re the one hearing… _stuff._ ”  
  
The phone stopped ringing mid-chime.  
  
“Okay, well now it stopped,” Andrea said, her arms crossed over her chest.  
  
“Told you,” Daryl said.  “Now you don’t hear it.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Andrea nodded.  “Because the phone stopped ringing.”  
  
“Then we’re all good,” Rick said, wondering how quick he could make his getaway while taking Daryl with him.    
  
“What’s going on?” Andrea asked.  
  
Rick thought Andrea would fit right in at the CIA with her interrogation techniques because that was all it took for Daryl to start singing like a bird.  
  
“Someone broke into Rick’s apartment last night, in the middle of the night, _bathed_ him, _shaved_ him,” Daryl ticked off on his fingers, “cut his goddamned hair and cleaned the goddamned bathtub.”  
  
All three women looked at each other before breaking down in laughter.  “Someone, did all that, and you never woke up Rick?!” Andrea sputtered.  
  
“I didn’t see nothin’ either,” Daryl groused.  
  
“ _You_ were there?!?!” Michonne coughed while laughing.  
  
“Oh fuck both of you,” Daryl crowed, pacing angrily.

“So they cut your hair, gave you a facial and shaved your beard.  And cleaned your tub,” Andrea said.  “I can’t even get Amy to do that, and I _pay_ her!”  
  
“Hey!” Amy cried out.  “Don’t get any ideas.  I’m not gonna give you guys pedicures and manicures for what you pay me.”  
  
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.  
  
“I woke up naked.  Naked as the day I was born,” Rick sighed.  “My beard wasn’t the only thing they shaved.”  
  
Sometimes, Rick needed to just know when to keep his mouth shut.  
  
Both Andrea and Michonne looked at each other, before looking at Rick, devilish smiles setting their faces aglow.  “Are you saying that they,” Michonne finished by pointing downward.  
  
“Yes,” he sighed.  
  
“Can we see?” Michonne asked excitedly, Andrea bouncing up and down in the background.  
  
“No!  You can not see!  Why does everyone wanna see?!” Rick cried out.  
  
Both women rushed Rick, trying to unzip his jeans.  He twirled around and around, so they couldn’t get a hold on him.  “Daryl!  Daryl!”  
  
“Get the fuck off the man!  He’s been violated enough!” Daryl yelled.    
  
He managed to pull Rick from the aggressive women.  “You guys obviously didn’t do it so we’re leaving!” Rick huffed as he tried to make his way to the front door, all three women advancing on him.  
  
“Rick, if you’re shaved down there,” Michonne leered, “you gotta get some silk boxers.”  
  
“What?!” Rick sputtered as he continued to make his way to the door.  
  
They were so close, Daryl backing up with him.  
  
“And silk briefs!” Andrea chimed in.    
  
“And silk pajama pants!” Michonne cut in.  
  
“Yeah silk pajama pants. Give those plaid things you got a proper burial,” Andrea nodded.   
  
“Can’t.  Someone took those too,” Rick sulked.   
  
“Well, we have some time before we’re both due in court.  We’re gonna go to Nordstroms right now and get you some silk under wear.  Our treat!” Michonne beamed.  
  
“You can’t do that.  It’ll throw his underwear drawer into complete chaos!” Daryl exclaimed.  
  
“Not helpin’ Daryl,” Rick muttered as the other man was chuckling behind him.  
  
“Let’s see, you’re size,” Michonne said as she came up behind Rick and grabbed his waistband, pulling it back roughly.  “Oh!  Did they shave your butt too?  It’s so _smooth_ back here,” she cooed.  
  
“No!” Rick yelped as he pulled himself away.    
  
“Aw, he’s smoother than a baby’s butt back there,” Michonne said.  
  
“Let me see!” Amy gushed.  
  
“Get away from me!” Rick said as he jumped around out of the way of all the hands.  
  
He watched as Michonne and Andrea made their way to the door.  “We’re like Olympians in shopping Rick!  You can’t catch us,” she said as they ran out the door and closed it.  
  
“Come back here… _oomph!_ ” Rick yelled before he tripped over the dog.  He looked back and saw Lulu staring right at him.  “That dog tripped me!  She wasn’t there before!”  
  
“You can’t stop them,” Amy said resignedly as she looked at the door.  “They’re probably half way there by now.”  
  
Rick and Daryl ran to the window and looked out.  They were too far up to see the sidewalk.  
  
“Beth’s room!” they both said in unison.  
  
Running into Beth’s room, they leaned out the window, catching Andrea and Michonne just as they were about to enter her Mercedes.  
  
“Don’t you dare buy me underwear!” Rick screamed down at the street below.

Ignoring Rick, both women giggled, got in the car and drove off.  
  
Glenn and Maggie, who happened to still be arguing with the delivery man (well, Maggie was;  Glenn was looking at the ground miserably) looked up.  
  
“You need underwear again Rick?” Maggie called up.  “We can go get some for you.  We’re heading on our way out.”  
  
“What size briefs do you wear?” Glenn called up.  
  
“Oh sweetie,” Maggie said.  “Rick’s small. It can’t be too hard to find.”  
  
“‘M not that small!” Rick yelled down.  “And I don’t need any underwear.  Silk or otherwise!”  
  
“Rick?” a female voice uttered as it drifted up to him.  
  
Rick looked down at where the voice came from.  
  
Oh great.  Two uniformed policemen on patrol.  
  
But not just any two policemen.  
  
“Aw hell,” Rick groused to Daryl.  “’S that Gorman fucker and Dawn.  Dunno which is worse.  Both’re creepy as hell.”  
  
“Wassa matter Grimes?” Gorman called up.  “Lost your underwear again,” he chuckled.  
  
The day kept getting better and better.  
  
“Hey!  Isn’t that the penguin guy?” a kid on a skateboard hollered as he looked up and pointed at Rick.  “Dude!  That was some fucked up shit!”  
  
“Yeah, I’m the penguin guy!” Rick screamed down to the street as he held his arms out to the side.  “Ku ku fuckin’ choo!”  
  
“Rick!” the governor said as he happened to be walking by, “what’d I say about leaning out windows!”  
  
Rick stared down at the teddy bear that had landed on the sidewalk earlier.  
  
He found himself wishing he could have made as graceful escape as it had.  
  
Then he toyed with the idea of just joining him on the pavement.  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People need to stop giving Rick stuff to eat. ;P
> 
> Comments are love.
> 
> Like, really, they're love.
> 
> I love them.


	12. Being a kept thing isn't so bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finally! The end of the mystery lies within this chapter.
> 
> I am really sorry about the long delay with this chapter.
> 
> Also, my computer is fully functional now AND some of the craziness and zaniness is dying down around here so more stuff to come! :)
> 
> (And yeah, there won't be such a long time between updates again).

  
  
  
“So, I figure I got ‘bout another hour to figure out who did this to me, pack my bags and leave the country,” Rick said.  
  
“‘M’kay, let’s start with why only an hour?” Daryl asked as they made their way back into the hall from Maggie and Glenn’s apartment.  
  
“Cause that’s about the time when Beth’ll be back to find out I killed her phone and chucked her teddy bear out the window, Gareth and his lot’ll be back and they’ll wanna see how fast they can share everything they know ‘bout my new look.  Alex will have already tweeted ‘bout the whole thing and that’s when those she-devils will be back with all my new silky unmentionables,” Rick huffed.  
  
“And then you’re gonna what?  _Run?_ ” Daryl chuckled.  
  
“Wouldn’t you?!” Rick scoffed.  
  
“‘Member my brother?  Merle?  Big asshole, likes to walk ‘round naked?” Daryl asked rhetorically.  “Iffen Ida got up and moved every time that idiot did something, I’d be in Peru right about now, herding llamas.”  
  
“You know, I could see you doing that, wearin’ one of them ponchos and sitting on a mountain top,” Rick smiled before ducking his head.  “I get what you’re saying.”  
  
“These numbskulls in this building don’t remember nothing.  Now come on, we should hit up Joe,” Daryl said as he bumped shoulders with Rick.    
  
“Um Daryl,” Rick hesitated before walking up the stairs, “Joe’s like a _rock legend_.  You don’t think he’d really be capable of something like this, do you?”  
  
“Fucker’s eccentric.  Eccentric people ‘re always doing weird shit.  They think of people like us as playthings,” Daryl groused.  
  
“Right, so we go up to Joe’s apartment, ask to use his phone and then,” Rick faltered.  
  
Rick thought about looking through Joe’s phone, snooping around in his private life.  
  
It seemed as ridiculous as flying to England, knocking on Mick Jagger’s door and asking if he could use his bathroom, then jacking off in there.  
  
“Hell no!” Daryl exclaimed.  “We’re gonna straight up ask him.  He’ll either tell us the truth or lie, but iffen he’s lying, he’ll be all cagey ‘bout it.”  
  
“You seem to have a handle on the man,” Rick smirked.  
  
“He’s been here a long ass time.  Fucker is crazy, but you can read him,” Daryl said, just as they made it to the fourth floor and Joe’s apartment door.  
  
“Oh yeah, he’ll wanna show you his _art,_ ” Daryl sneered, his eyes rolling upward, as he knocked on the door.  
  
“Yeah?” Rick said.  
  
Rick briefly wondered if the man threw paint all over a canvas in a sad imitation of Pollock.  
  
“Just…when you see it,” Daryl said as he knocked harder. “Open the door Joe!” he yelled.  “Just when you see it, don’t flip out…or run…or _both_.”  
  
Flip out?  
  
“Flip out?” Rick asked.  “Wait.  What do you mean by flip out?” Rick asked as the superstar, the big cheese himself, opened the door, wearing a pair of white overalls and nothing else.  
  
“Hey Daryl.  Rick.  To what do I owe the pleasure?” an actually lucid for once Joe asked as he took the cigarette out of his mouth.  
  
“We gotta ask you some questions,” Daryl said.  “Can we come in?”  
  
“Mi casa, su casa,” Joe replied as he swept his arm invitingly.  “You caught me while I was in the middle of creating my next masterpiece,” Joe winked.  
  
“No shit,” Daryl drawled, clearly not amused.  
  
“Masterpiece?” Rick asked, trying to be polite.  
  
Oh seriously, why did he open his mouth at all sometimes.  
  
“I make busts,” Joe said matter-of-factly.  
  
That didn’t sound as bad as Daryl had made it out to be.  
  
“Busts?” Rick shrugged, feigning interest.  
  
Really he just wanted to find out if Joe had groomed him in the middle of the night, why he would do such a thing if he indeed had been the one and get the hell out of there.  
  
The place was creeping him out.  
  
“So who are the busts of?” Rick asked.  
  
“Oh God,” Daryl groaned.  
  
Joe grinned a wide smile, his eyes taking on a slightly manic glee.  “Wanna see my busts?”  
  
At least it wasn’t as cliche as asking if he wanted to see his sketches.  
  
“Sure,” Rick said, knowing he would no doubt regret those words later.  
  
“Then let’s go to the bust room, also known as my studio.  Gentlemen,” Joe smiled as he turned around to lead the way.  
  
The three men walked into Joe’s studio.  
  
Well, he _did_ call it the bust room.  
  
There were rows upon rows of shelves, and on each shelf, there sat several busts.  
  
But not the kind of busts that one usually thought of when they thought of sculptures made to look like someone’s head and shoulders.  
  
These busts only featured one part of the human female anatomy.  
  
That is to say, their breasts, down to their midriff, stopping just under their belly button.  
  
And there were so _many._  
  
Busts of women with large breasts and tiny waists, women with small breasts and thick torsos and every combination in between.  
  
The sculptures were so intricate, he could even tell which female had an innie and which had an outtie belly button.  
  
“Wow!  This is…wow!” Rick said dumbfounded.  “You uh… _wow_ ,” Rick coughed, “you sculpted all these?  Who are these women?  I mean, women posed for these, right?!”  
  
“Just wait,” Daryl nodded knowingly.  
  
“Every woman I’ve ever slept with since I started this little hobby.  Well, that’s not exactly true,” Joe grimaced.  
  
“Oh that’s a relief,” Rick exhaled, “cause there’s like a hundred here…”  
  
“Haven’t made a bust of _everyone_ I’ve slept with,” Joe finished.  
  
“Uh huh,” Rick snorted.  “So, you sculpted all these while they posed?”  
  
“No, no!” Joe scoffed.  “Pfft.  That’s old school.  I’m a Renaissance man Rick.  I made casts out of all of those pretty ladies.  I used gypsum…plaster.”  
  
“Oh,” Rick said as he looked at one of the busts a little more closely.  
  
It brought back memories of a horror movie from the sixties that he saw late at night on television about an artist who killed women and covered them in plaster and called it art.  
  
God he hoped Joe wasn’t _that_ eccentric.  
  
“So I lay the plaster on the women, then when it’s set, that’s the mold I use.  Then I pour the plaster into that.  Hell!  Why am I explaining it for?!” Joe exclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air.  “I got a model in back right now.  Let me show you how it’s done.  Come on.”  
  
“You have a model back there… _now?!_ ” Daryl burst out.  “But you said you only do women you’ve slept with…”  
  
“Yes, Daryl, that’s right,” Joe shrugged.  “I picked her up last night.  We had sex.  I asked her to stay and now here we are.”  
  
“Fuck Joe!” Daryl said.  “We were up on that roof pretty late.  When’d you have time to pick up a woman?”  
  
“I got hungry in the middle of the night.  Went down to the 7-11 for a late night snack.   She was there.  I asked her if she wanted to have sex.  She said yes.  End of story.  Seriously Daryl,” he said as he shook his head, leading them down a hallway into another room.  
  
There was another bust in an alcove set into the wall at the end of the hallway. A light shone on it, the sculpture seeming to hold a place of honor.  
  
“This must be a special woman,” Rick said.  “First wife?  First love?”  
  
“Naw, mom,” Joe said as he nodded at the sculpture fondly.  
  
Rick and Daryl looked askance at each other before regarding the thing at different angles.  
  
“Your mom seemed like a lovely woman,” Rick said, trying to be polite yet again.  
  
“Yeah, real peach,” Daryl droned.  
  
“And here’s where I make the magic!” Joe said as they entered his other studio.  
  
A naked woman, clad only in a small pair of panties, was reclining on her back on the chaise lounge.  The girl, for she couldn’t have been much older than Beth, waved at the men and said, “hi.”  
  
“Shouldn’t she be in high school today Joe?” Daryl jeered.  
  
“Ha ha,” Joe smirked.  “She’s twenty and going to the local university.  A college girl,” he said with a smile as he winked salaciously at the young woman.  
  
Rick looked at the girl’s body.  She was perfectly proportioned, with firm breasts, a tone midriff and the most adorable belly button he had ever seen, all cascading down into the most shapely hips.  They were slim, yet not straight.  
  
He realized something in that moment as he stood there drooling over the young woman's body.  
  
He seriously needed to get laid.  
  
But who was he kidding.  
  
Lori had been correct.  
  
He could never just ask women out, whether it be for dinner or even for a one night stand.  
  
In order for him to even get close to a one night stand, he would have to at least take the girl on a few dates first.  
  
Why couldn’t he be more like Joe?  
  
The man could hook up while just going downstairs to get nachos and a slurpee.  
  
Both men watched as Joe quickly applied the plaster to the girl’s torso, liberally slathering on the white substance onto every surface, brushing the stuff over her nipples and around the swell of her breast.  
  
They should have been leaving for the next stop in their quest to find the culprit who had violated him in the middle of the night.  
  
But they seemed to be rooted to the spot, watching in a strange fascination as he coated the white paste everywhere.  
  
“Is it gettin’ hot in here?” Daryl asked as he pulled the collar of his shirt away from his skin.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said, uncomfortably moving from one foot to the other.  
  
“You know,” Daryl whispered into his ear, Rick jumping at the contact, “you know it weren’t him.”  
  
“Huh?   Oh yeah,” Rick said as he was ripped from his enthrallment, “cause he was with her all last night, right?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m thinkin' if someone like Joe had _that_ in his bed, he wouldn’t be leavin’ it anytime soon,” Daryl said, “’specially not to shave another guy’s balls.”  
  
“Right,” Rick said.  “Le’s go…like _now_.”  
  
If he wasn’t careful, he would have to make his escape on three legs instead of two.  
  
They didn't want to be rude and just up and leave, so Daryl went to address the man, who happened to be in the middle of counting down, probably the time it took for the plaster to set.  
  
“Ten Mississippi,” Joe droned, “nine Mississippi, eight Mississippi…”  
  
“Um,” Daryl said.  “We’re gonna go now.”  
  
“You stopped me at eight Mississippi Daryl,” Joe said, clearly agitated.  “Great, now I lost count.”  
  
“I’m counting in my head Joe,” the girl said.  
  
“See.  Beauty _and_ brains,” Joe said with a smile.  “So what are the questions you wanted to ask?”  
  
“Um, completely forgot,” Rick said as he tried to wave Joe away.  “We’ll just head on out.”  
  
“Let’s go before he pulls that cast off and starts washin’ her down,” Daryl whispered urgently.  
  
“Aw, but you’re gonna miss the best part!” Joe said.  “And hey!  I got some kabobs on the grill.  Stay for lunch.”  
  
“See you Joe!” Daryl yelled out and pulled Rick with him, both men running out the door, shuddering at the bust of Joe’s mom in the alcove one last time, sprinting down the hallway and out the front door.  
  
“That was a close call,” Rick exhaled as they caught their breath in the hallway.  
  
“Yeah, seriously.  Kabobs?!” Daryl shouted.  “What’s wrong with steak?  Good ole fashioned _steak?_!”  Daryl yelled at the closed door.  
  
“What next?” Rick asked.  
  
“That there is Abraham and Rosita’s apartment,” Daryl said as he pointed to the only other unit on that floor.  “‘M pretty sure they didn’t have anything to do with the…your… _thing_ , but might as well try.”  
  
Both men walked up to the door and knocked, hearing a, “Fucking hell!  What now?!” coming from the other side.  
  
“What?!” Abraham yelled as he answered the door, half naked except for a towel around his lower half and holding a can of soup in one hand.  
  
“Hey Abe.  Sorry to bother you,” Daryl said, a bit nervously.  
  
“Oh hey Daryl.  Rick, right?” Abraham asked as he looked at him.  
  
“Yeah, we were wondering, um,” Daryl started.  
  
“What’s up baby?” Rosita purred seductively behind Abraham, her hair rumpled and wearing nothing but a bed sheet.  
  
The bed sheet was draped just right, so that the upper swell of her ample bosom was on display, and one perfect thigh could be seen sticking out the other end of the fabric.    
  
They had the very air of people who had just literally fucked their brains out.  
  
He _really_ needed to get laid.  
  
“Hi guys,” she said sleepily.  “What’s up?”  
  
“Look,” Daryl said.  “Someone came into Rick’s room last night, and did _stuff_ to him.”  
  
Rick pulled Daryl aside.  “Aren’t we gonna use the phone ploy?”  
  
“This asshole’ll see right through it.  Best to go for full disclosure and hope for the best.”  
  
“Yeah, what _stuff_?” Abe growled, Rosita perking up and taking interest.  
  
Rick was most definitely not looking at the way the bed sheet started to dip lower.  
  
“They did _stuff_ to me,” Rick groused.  
  
“Well, _stuff_ as in what?!” Abe huffed.  “Was there anal or rectal damage,” he said bluntly.  
  
Anal or rectal damage?  
  
Oh God, just let him sink into the floor now.  
  
“Fuck Abe man!” Daryl burst out.  “No!  They cleaned him.”  
  
“He did smell,” Abe shrugged, Rosita nodding in confirmation, throwing a silent apology in Rick’s direction.  
  
“They bathed me and shaved me,” Rick said quietly.  
  
“It does look very nice,” Rosita said.  Peering more closely, she said, “did they exfoliate?”  
  
“They shaved me in private places too,” Rick continued.  
  
God, why was he here?  
  
He should just pack his bags now.  
  
That Alaska idea sounded good.  
  
Maybe Antarctica instead.  
  
Live with the penguins there.  
  
He knew how to be their king.  
  
“They shaved you… _there_ …that’s just not right,” Abraham said slowly, and truth be told, more menacingly.  “Them sons of bitches.  If you find the _asshole_ who did this, you let me know Rick,” he said as he placed his hand on his shoulder in male solidarity.  
  
Of course the other hand was slowly crushing the can of soup.  
  
“Breaking into a man’s private domain, doing that to him, _you tell me man_!” Abe yelled as Rosita managed to push the large angry man back into the apartment.  
  
They could still hear the man shouting what he planned on doing to the lowlife through the closed door.  
  
“Guys,” Rosita said as she peeked out from the door, “if you do find the guy, or whatever, don’t tell Abe.”  
  
“Got it,” Daryl said.  
  
“Yeah no problem,” Rick quickly agreed.  
  
After all, he didn’t hate the person _that_ much.  
  
He did smell nice, and his face had never felt so clean.  
  
Still it was grooming without consent.  But he certainly didn’t want to subject the person to death by soup can from Psycho G.I. Joe.  
  
“That doesn’t leave us with much,” Daryl winced.  
  
“Morgan?” Rick asked.  “I mean, he’s not all there.”  
  
“Naw, Morgan was on the roof top all night.  Dale texted me ‘bout it,” Daryl said.  
  
“All night?” Rick said disbelievingly.  
  
“Lookin' out for Gotham.  Remember, he’s _Batman_ ,” Daryl finished with a chuckle.  
  
“Poor guy.  ’S not like anyone’s ever gonna put out the bat signal for him,” Rick said as he shook his head.  
  
“Well, there was this one time,” Daryl stumbled, “remember Alex is a little shit…”  
  
“He didn’t?!” Rick gasped.  
  
“Morgan was going crazy tryin' to find who it was that were callin’ for help,” Daryl said.  “Gareth wouldn’t talk to Alex for weeks!”  
  
Both men looked up the spiral staircase all the way to the top floor.  “There’s Tyreese,” Daryl said.  
  
Tyreese?  
  
“Okay, the rock legend was one thing.  Cause you say he’s eccentric.  But _Tyreese_?” Rick sputtered.  
  
“Well, the elevator don’t exactly reach all the way to the top,” Daryl started, “and he’s a couple cans short of a six pack and he’s not the sharpest…”  
  
“Oh God!  Please, no more euphemisms.  Okay, we’ll go check it out,” Rick gave in.  As they climbed the stairs to the very top floor, Rick said, “Sasha don’t seem like the kind of person to do this either.”  
  
“Sasha?!” Daryl sputtered.  “Sasha would rather watch Merle do the hustle in nothing but his birthday suit while he was eatin' pork rinds before she’d break into someone’s apartment and bathe them.”  
  
That was the impression Rick had got about the woman as well.  
  
Also, now he would have to wash his mind with bleach to get the image of a naked Merle doing the hustle out of there.  
  
“Okay, here we are!” Daryl said as they came to the other apartment on the sixth floor, the one across the hall from Michonne and Andrea’s.  “No matter what happens in here,” Daryl sighed, “there’s always an escape route, okay?  You give the signal and we’re out the door, or window, or whatever is closest.  You ready?” Daryl asked as he seemed to brace himself.   
  
“Ready?  Ready for what?  Are we talkin' to Tyreese and Sasha or going to war?” Rick asked.  
  
He thought that was a valid question.  
  
They knocked on the door, light footsteps being heard on the other side.  The door opened wide and there stood Sasha, complete in a black, well fitted uniform, not unlike his own.  Reading the badge more closely, he could see the words ATLANTA FIRE DEPARTMENT upon it.  
  
“Hi Rick,” Sasha smiled.  She turned to Daryl and offered him the same greeting.  “What’s up?”  
  
“You’re a firefighter?” Rick asked.  
  
“I never did mention that, did I?” Sasha said.  “I’m due at the station in about five minutes so I gotta run.  You need me for anything?”  
  
“No,” Daryl cut in, “was just wonderin’ if Tyreese is ‘round somewhere.”  
  
“Oh, he’s in there,” she said with a roll of her eyes.  “He’s mad at me for not letting him fry up any corn dogs in his deep fryer.”  
  
“I’m doing it for the girls, they’re home from school!” Tyreese said as he came into the foyer.  
  
“For the girls!  Pfft!” Sasha said as she put one hand on her hip.  “You eat those crudities I set out for you.  You can even dip them in the blue cheese dressing.  But stay away from the fried foods!”  
  
“Crudities!” Tyreese pouted.  “That’s just another fancy word for rabbit food.”  
  
“Hot dogs dipped in corn batter and deep fried is not people food either!  I swear,” Sasha huffed, “what person has their own personal deep fryer?  He would fry bacon and eat it like popcorn if I let him,” she said as she regarded Rick and Daryl.  
  
Rick and Daryl just nodded their heads, not wanting to get in the middle of the sibling’s squabble.  
  
“Now you play nice with Daryl and Rick,” she scolded Tyreese.  “Here’s your phone,” she said as she placed the device in his large hands, “you refer to the flashcards on there if you need to.  Remember, this is Rick,” Sasha said as she placed her hands on Rick’s shoulders.  “We like Rick.  And this is Daryl,” she said as she placed her hands on his shoulders.  “We like Daryl too.”  
  
“Stop treating me like a child!” Tyreese sulked.  
  
“Then stop acting like one!” she hollered as she made her way out the door, waving to both men as she left.  
  
“I wanna eat my damn corn dogs!” Tyreese yelled at the door then turned away to grumble.  
  
Just then two little girls walked up to the large man.  The taller of the two, a devilish smile planted on her face said in the sweetest voice possible, “can we eat those corn dogs now?”  
  
“Can’t,” Tyreese said as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Sasha said no.”  
  
“Oh,” the girl said with a frown.  She looked over at Rick and Daryl.  “Who’re you?”  
  
“I’m Rick,” he said as he smiled at the two girls.  “What're your names?”  
  
“I’m Lizzie,” said the taller one, obviously older as well.  
  
“I’m Mika,” said the other one.  “We’ve heard about you from Sasha.  Nice to meet you.”  
  
“Nice to meet you as well,” Rick said.  
  
They didn’t seem so bad.  
  
“I see dead people,” Lizzie said seriously.  
  
“You what now?” Rick asked.  
  
Maybe he spoke too soon.  
  
“Don’t mind her,” Daryl said, “she’s always fuckin’ ‘round.”  
  
“No, I’m not,” Lizzie said angrily.  “I see dead people.  And I talk to ‘em too.  They’re my friends.”  
  
“Her best friend, Molly, well, her daddy, is a mortician.  So Molly and Lizzie’re always sneaking off to look at the bodies, even though Sasha expressly _forbid you_ ,” Mika said, the last part more loudly and in her sister’s face.  
  
“Nick was the latest.  He was the best,” Lizzie sighed.  “When I grow up, I’m gonna figure out how to bring the dead back to life.”  
  
Well, now if that wasn’t the creepiest conversation Rick had ever had, _he_ would do the hustle naked and eat pork rinds himself.  
  
Then he remembered the sad tale of the two girls and decided to have a little more compassion.  “Is that cause you want to bring your mother and father back sweetie?” Rick asked Lizzie.  
  
“No!  It’s so I can bring back _Nick_!” Lizzie huffed angrily.  “Weren’t you listening?!”  
  
Lizzie then stomped off.  
  
No doubt about it.  
  
The girl _was_ crazy.  
  
“Tyreese?” Mika asked sweetly.  
  
“Yes honey?” the large man said.  
  
“Can we eat those corn dogs now?  Sasha said it was okay,” she said.  
  
“Oh she did?!  Oh okay.  Yeah, go ahead and fry them up,” he said with a smile.  
  
Mika giggled and skipped into the kitchen.  
  
“Should we say anything?” Rick asked.  
  
It would piss him off to no end if Carl had taken advantage of him like that.  
  
“It don’t matter,” Daryl said as he shook his head.  
  
“You guys wanna corn dog?” Tyreese asked.  
  
“No we didn’t come here to eat anything,” Daryl said in a surly tone.  “We need to see your phone.”  
  
“My phone?” Tyreese pouted as he held the device close to his chest.  
  
“Yeah, your _phone_ ,” Daryl said as he grabbed it out of Tyreese’s hand.  
  
“Um Daryl,” Rick said anxiously.  
  
“Just wait,” Daryl said.  
  
“Hey, that’s a nice phone!” Tyreese said.  “Where’d you get it?”  
  
“See?" Daryl said as he looked at Rick.  “It is nice, innit?” Daryl smiled.  “I have to show somethin’ to Rick and then you can see it,” Daryl said as they turned away from the large man.  
  
“I feel kinda bad,” Rick said guiltily as he glanced once more at the forlorn man behind him, just as the aforementioned man turned around and walked into the kitchen.  
  
“Don’t,” Daryl grunted as he started looking through the phone.  
  
“Okay, I gotta know.  What’s up with the flash cards?” Rick asked as he saw a button titled as such.  
  
“Oh that,” Daryl said.  “Sasha had that made for him.  See?” Clicking on the app, there were small thumbnails that appeared on the screen.    
  
“Hey!  That’s me,” Rick said as he saw a picture of his head.  
  
“Don’t get too excited.  ’S not what you think.  We’re all here.  See?” Daryl said as he expanded the file.  He then clicked on the thumbnail of Rick’s face.  
  
A picture of him appeared.  The one from the day before, unfortunately, when he was in nothing but his pajama pants.  
  
It read:  
  
RICK GRIMES  
ONE OF THE RARE GOOD COPS  
FRIEND  
USUALLY CAN BE SEEN STAPLED TO DARYL’S HIP  
FRESH MEAT  
  
“I’ve only been in this building for three days!” Rick said excitedly.  “’S little too soon to be profiling me.”  
  
“Sasha updates this pretty regularly,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Oh!  Do you!” Rick giggled.  
  
Daryl clicked on his face.  
  
It read:  
  
DARYL DIXON  
ZEN HUNTER FOR HIRE  
FRIEND  
CAN BE SEEN HITTING ON HIS NEW NEIGHBOR, RI  
  
“Okay, that’s enough of the flash card app,” Daryl said as he closed the file out quickly.  
  
“I didn’t get to finish reading it!” Rick exclaimed.  
  
“’S okay.  Wanna see what it says ‘bout Merle?” Daryl chuckled.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Rick smiled.  
  
Clicking on Merle’s face, both men read the card file:  
  
MERLE DIXON  
WASTE OF SPACE  
HOSTILE  
DO NOT ENGAGE. EVER.  
  
Rick and Daryl started giggling.  “Okay, we need to stop this,” Rick said.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said as he scrolled through some of the other apps.  “He really don’t do much with his phone 'cept rely on those damn cards.”  
  
“Why are we here then?” Rick asked.  
  
“Dunno,” Daryl shrugged.  “I really thought it was Beth or Michonne or one of Gareth’s guys.  We’re at a dead end here.  It weren’t Dale or the governor.  Neither one of ‘em would touch another guy’s junk.”  
  
Just then, Tyreese walked back into the room, three corn dogs in a basket in his hand.  
  
“Found your phone man,” Daryl said as he passed the phone back to Tyreese.  
  
“Oh hey thanks.  I was looking for that _everywhere_ ,” Tyreese said, while Daryl rolled his eyes.  “I made us some corn dogs.  Don’t they smell yummy?”  
  
“They do smell really good.  Is that honey dipped batter?” Rick asked, licking his lips.  
  
He was terribly hungry since Daryl hadn’t let him finish anything that morning.  
  
“Is there any other kind?” the large man laughed jovially as he handed Rick the deep-fried delicacy.  
  
Biting the top of the dog off, Rick moaned, “Oh God, that is so good.”  
  
This time he had remembered to blow on the top, Daryl making a whimpering sound as he did so.  
  
“We gotta go now,” Daryl said as he grabbed the corn dog out of Rick’s hand and started to push him out the door.  
  
“Hey guys!  Marty and Alex and me started that fight club,” Tyreese said as he followed them to the foyer.  
  
“Great!” Daryl said as he tried yet again to go for the door, the large man standing in their way of escape.  “Good luck with that.”  
  
“You wanna know the first rule of fight club?” Tyreese asked excitedly.  
  
“Don’t tell me,” Rick drawled.  “Don’t talk about fight club.”  
  
“Yeah that’s right!” Tyreese said, surprise written on his face.  “Hey you guys in the club too?”  
  
“What club?” Daryl asked, a teasing smile on his face.  
  
“What what club?” Tyreese asked, confusion now setting in.  
  
“You asked if we were in the club too,” Daryl said.  
  
“What club’s that?” Tyreese asked again.  
  
“You know,” Daryl said, his head canted to the side in confusion, a pout on his face.  “Aw Tyreese, ‘m sorry.  I thought you were part of the club too.”  
  
“What club is that guys?” Tyreese asked rather urgently, sad about being left out of a club he now had no idea of being part of.  
  
“Can’t tell you,” Daryl smirked.  “That’s the first rule.  Not to talk about it.”  
  
“But now I wanna know,” Tyreese pouted.  “Can you guys get me into this club.  It sounds fun.”  
  
Rick tapped Daryl’s shoulder.  “Is it really a wise idea to fuck with the rather large, rather foreboding, former quarterback?”  
  
“Like I said, fucker deserves it,” Daryl said angrily.  “I was in the apartment here one night cause he needed help movin’ his damn new plasma screen.  So I’m holdin’ one end and he suddenly goes blank and starts accusing me of breaking and entering.  Sasha had to come runnin’ in to get the fucker off me.  Nearly pulled my arms out of their sockets.”  
  
Both men turned back to Tyreese to end the taunting and get the hell out of there when they noticed the man’s face went totally blank.  
  
He looked back and forth between the two men.  
  
“Who are you guys?  What’re you doing in my apartment?!” the large man bellowed.  
  
He took a step toward them, Rick feeling the ground shake beneath them.  
  
Tyreese reached forward and grabbed Rick up by his upper arms and started crushing them.  
  
“Get off Rick you asswipe!!” Daryl shouted.  
  
“Get the flash cards!!  Get the flash cards!!” Rick yelled, his voice becoming more strained.  
  
It was like dealing with a beast only heard about in rural legends.  
  
Daryl fumbled with the phone and managed to get the flash card of Rick open.  “ _Tyreese!  Man!  Look!_ ” Daryl said urgently as he waved the phone in front of the Yeti’s face, calming the beast.  
  
It was working as Tyreese loosened his grip on Rick.  
  
“Oh hey Rick!  Daryl!” a much calmer Tyreese said.  “Wanna corn dog?”  
  
“No we don’t wanna corn dog,” Rick angrily said back.  He then went to rush Tyreese, Daryl having to hold him back.  “Let me at him.  Let me at him.  I can take him!”  
  
“What’s the matter guys?” Tyreese asked innocently.  
  
“We’re gonna tell Marty and Alex you already broke the first rule of fight club!” Daryl yelled at Tyreese as he pushed Rick toward the door.  
  
“Hey now, don’t be like that,” Tyreese said as he made his way toward the escaping duo.

The girls showed up in the foyer just then.  
  
“Come back with us Tyreese,” Mika said.  “We’re watching a movie.  Come on, it’s better here.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s better here,” Lizzie said.  
  
“I never know what the _fuck_ they mean by that,” Tyreese said as he shook his head back and forth, his brows furrowed while being carried away by the two little girls.  
  
Rick and Daryl opened the door and made their way into the hall, both men’s back against the now closed door.  
  
“Sasha puts up with _that?_!” Rick exclaimed.  “The girls and… _him?!_ ”  
  
“Why you think she’s able to go to work everyday, takin’ her life into her own hands?” Daryl scoffed.  “’S a damn vacation for her!”  
  
“Good point,” Rick agreed.  
  
“Your place?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said with a nod of his head, climbing the staircase downward.  
  
They were still no closer to finding out who had groomed him.  
  
“After today, I gotta go back to work.  God I hate those fuckers there,” Rick groused.  “And Gorman is gonna… _never mind._ ”  
  
“Oh Rick,” Daryl winced.  “I ain’t gonna be around for a few days.”  
  
“Huntin’ expedition?” Rick asked, making air quotes.  
  
“Yep.  This one is big too.  I’ll be gone ’til Friday.  I’ll be back in time for rehearsal dinner though,” Daryl said then groaned.  “I gotta deal with Gareth comin’ along for this trip.”  
  
“Gareth?  Wait,” Rick said.  
  
“Yeah, you got it.  Starbuck’s execs.  Wanna go bag some boar or something.  I figure they wanna take Gareth for some rite of passage bullshit.  I swear,” Daryl scoffed, “these are some real scary motherfuckers.  ’S jus coffee, but you’d think it was the damn cartel.”  
  
“You’ll be gone til Friday, huh?” Rick pouted.  “Gonna leave me alone with all these crazy people?” he smirked.  
  
“Y’all be fine,” Daryl shrugged.  “’S not like there’s anything left to do to you.  But just in case, keep your door locked, dead bolt the inside, cause some of these fuckers know how to pick locks.  Check both ways when exitin’ your door.”  
  
“You should write a survival handbook for this place,” Rick chuckled.  He unlocked the door to his unit, both men making their way inside.  
  
They slumped onto the overstuffed sofa just as Rick’s front door banged open.  
  
“Don’t you people ever knockl!” Rick shouted.  
  
Andrea and Michonne stood on the threshold, carrying several bags from places like Nordstroms, Lord and Taylor and Bergdorf Goodman.  
  
Michonne smirked before knocking on the open door.  “There.  We knocked.  Now look at what we got you,” she said excitedly.  
  
“We had so much fun!” Andrea beamed.  “Shopping for men is _great_. I should get a boyfriend just so I can buy stuff for him.”  
  
“Well we got Rick now,” Michonne smiled.  
  
“You make me sound like your own personal Ken doll,” Rick said, blushing all over.  
  
“Well, Ken sure don’t have hair down there either,” Daryl chuckled, Rick shooting him a dirty look.  
  
“Yes but you have a cock,” Michonne smirked, as she patted Rick on the shoulder.  
  
“You guys were gone for like an hour!” Rick yelled, looking at all the bags scattered around his main room.  
  
“I said we were serious shoppers,” Andrea protested.  “Look at this,” she said as she pulled a small, button up shirt out of one of the bags.  
  
“Um, that’s way too small for him,” Daryl said.  
  
“This isn’t for Rick.  It’s for Carl, for the wedding.  We got him slacks too,” Andrea said as she pulled out a nice pair of pleated trousers.  
  
“Wait, you,” Rick started.  
  
“And look at this,” Michonne said as she pulled out the cutest looking party dress ever.  “This is for Judith.  We got matching shoes and tights.”  
  
It was adorable.  Judith would look like a princess in it.  
  
Lori would absolutely _hate_ it when she saw it.  
  
He could almost see his ex-wife turning green from here.  
  
“Daryl, use my phone and take a picture of the dress, text it to Lori tellin' her not to worry.  That we got Judith a dress for the wedding,” Rick said as he threw his phone to Daryl.  
  
“Will do,” Daryl said as he took a snapshot of the article of clothing.  
  
“Oh, and when she texts back asking how I managed to pick something out for the baby to wear that’s _not_ a onesie, tell her Michonne and Andrea bought it for her,” Rick said, a devilish smile on his face.  
  
“Okay, operation ‘drive the bitch crazy’ is under way,” Daryl saluted.  
  
“You know, you guys didn’t have to do this,” Rick said to Michonne.  
  
“Nonsense!  It was fun shopping for a baby girl,” Michonne said wistfully, leering over in Rick’s direction.  
  
There were loud signals going off somewhere in his scrotum area.  He could almost hear all his sperm screaming to 'duck for cover.'  
  
“Okay, enough of that.  We bought some wonderful silk boxers for you Rick.  You simply must try them on…now,” Michonne said, a pleasant smile on her face, but a quiet assertiveness in her eyes.  
  
“I’ll try ‘em on…later,” Rick said as he tried to hold his ground.  “And I’ll tell you how they…”  
  
“ _Now Rick_ ,” Michonne said as she got into his space, dominating all the air around him.  
  
An image flashed in front of his eyes.  Michonne, in a black corset with a pair of tight leather pants, cracking a whip while pulling a leash which led to a collar around his neck, bringing him in closer and closer until she was inches away from his face.  
  
“Yes Mistress… _Michonne_ ,” Rick sputtered, correcting himself, Daryl laughing somewhere in the background.  
  
“Good boy,” she smiled.  
  
Rick took the bag and made his way to the bedroom.  
  
“Oh Rick!  Don’t forget the pajama pants,” Michonne said as she pulled out the silkiest, softest pair of pajama bottoms he had ever seen.  They were a light charcoal grey and so very, very soft.  
  
He made his way into the bedroom, closed the door and locked it.  
  
Then he put a chair under the doorknob.  
  
Rick looked at the various items the girls had bought him.  
  
Really, he had only just left _one_ woman who held his leash, and now he seemed to be caving into another.  
  
Then again, Michonne was a different story.  
  
She already had someone.  
  
Which completely scratched her off his list.  
  
The sad fact was that he would gladly be her lap dog if it weren’t for that.  
  
And that made him a bit sad, because he really wanted someone for himself.  
  
Someone one who would know him.  Be able to read him.  
  
Be there for him.  
  
That he could talk to.  
  
He laughed to himself when he realized he had just described Daryl.  
  
Sighing, Rick pulled off his jeans and threw them in the corner by the bedside table, doing the same with his underwear.  
  
He then turned to the silk boxers lying on the bed.  
  
There was no packaging and they hadn't come on hangers hanging off racks so that just _anybody_ could buy them.  They were stored on shelves, behind counters.  These were the kind of things you bought one at a time.  That someone called a haberdasher would hand to you.  
  
He slipped the pair on.  
  
Oh God!  
  
It was like wearing air.  
  
They were so cool.  
  
So light.  
  
And against his naked flesh, his _freshly shaved_ naked flesh.  It was, it was…  
  
 _Divine!_  
  
“Oh yeah!” Rick moaned as he wriggled around in them.  
  
“Rick!” Michonne’s voice could be heard from outside the door.  
  
“God these feel so _good_ ,” he moaned again.  
  
“Rick!” Michonne yelled again.  “Stop moaning in there unless we can see you in those.”  
  
“ _Fuck_ these are amazing!” Rick shouted.  “I’m actually getting _hard_ wearin' these things.”  
  
“You stop that right now Rick!”  
  
That was Daryl’s voice this time.  
  
“I’m pullin’ on the pajama pants now,” Rick called out.  “Oh Fuck!  _Shit!_   ’S like a million hands caressing my skin when I pull ‘em on.”  
  
Rick stepped forward.  “Oh my God!  ’S even better when you walk in them!”  
  
“You come out here right now Rick!” Andrea yelled through the door.  “These guys are gonna get a battering ram in a minute.”  
  
Rick opened the door and casually leaned against the doorway, one arm sliding up the doorjamb, leering at the people gathered in his apartment, preening wickedly.  “I have _arrived_.”  
  
“Oh you minx," Michonne smirked.  
  
“Fuck man, thought you were gettin’ your rocks off in there,” Daryl smiled, his face an interesting shade of red.  
  
“Give it a couple minutes,” Rick nodded as he strutted around the apartment.  “ _Fuck_ my underwear drawer!  I’ll only be wearin’ these from now on,” he smiled.  
  
Shit, he wished he could be alone with his new underwear right about now.  
  
“Yeah, well, wait til you see the wife-beaters we got you in silk,” Andrea said.  
  
Would the decadence never end?  
  
“And for the wedding, we got you this,” Andrea said as she held up a lilac colored shirt, it being made out of the same heavenly fabric as the pants.  Rick slipped the shirt off the hanger and _poured_ himself into the shirt.  
  
So help him God, that’s what it felt like.  
  
“Oh God,” he wailed as the fabric touched him everywhere, including his freshly shaven chest.  “This is _amazing_!”  
  
“Do we know our stuff or do we know our stuff?” Andrea said as she and Michonne shared a high five.  
  
“You know your stuff,” Daryl drawled, “congratulations.  You’ve made Rick a walkin’ hard on.”  
  
“You know, the shirt’s great but I can’t take it,” Rick frowned, “'s too nice and won’t go with my crummy suit.”  
  
“That’s why you have a fitting later today Rick.  He can get it to you by Wednesday night, and do alterations and have it to you by Friday.  All taken care of,” Michonne said.    
  
You know, he didn’t really mind being a kept man at this point.  
  
“God this shirt is so soft,” Rick marveled as he caressed the sleeve, Daryl coming up and caressing the other.    
  
Andrea smoothed the back down while Michonne straightened the collar, stroking the fabric more than necessary.  “Oh that is nice, isn’t it?!”  
  
Just then Carol knocked at the doorjamb.  “Hi there.”  
  
Well at least Carol knew how to knock.  
  
“Can we all pet Rick or is it just a private thing,” Carol asked.  
  
“Feel this Carol.  It’s pure silk,” Andrea said as they let Carol into the inner circle.  
  
“Oh that is nice.  Must be nice against your freshly shaven chest,” Carol said.  
  
Everyone stopped petting Rick to look at Carol.  
  
Which was a shame really.  
  
It had felt rather nice.  
  
“You heard?” Andrea asked, confusion on her face.  
  
“Heard?  Heard what?” Carol asked innocently.  
  
“‘Bout what happened to Rick?” Daryl said.  
  
“What happened to you?” Carol asked in alarm.  
  
“You said, ‘freshly shaven chest,’” Michonne said, her brows furrowed as well.  
  
“Yes, I did,” Carol said shaking her head.  
  
And then that lightbulb lit up in Rick’s head.  
  
“Carol?” Rick said pensively.  
  
“Yes Rick?” Carol said.  
  
“Did you…did you…were you the one to groom me last night?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yes,” Carol said, without any hesitation or shame or remorse, or well, _anything_.  
  
She was the last one he would have ever expected.  
  
“I came up here, to give you some soap and shampoo.  I thought it might help, because you know, you really stunk,” she winced.  “I found you and Daryl asleep on the bed together.  You were both so cute and looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.  Oh!  And I turned off the bath.  You could have had quite the accident.  Your floor is right over Joe’s studio you know.  I don’t think you would’ve wanted that shit storm, being that it's right over the bust room and all,” she snorted.  “So I came in and cleaned you up myself,” she finished with a smile on her face, licking her lips.  
  
He was suddenly reminded of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.  
  
“But why didn’t you wake me?!  Or…or,” Rick sputtered.  
  
“It was for your own good Rick,” she frowned.  “I had to.  You smelled something _awful_.  And I wanted to do something nice for you, after saving Sophia,” she ended with a smile again.  
  
“But why did you shave me?” Rick said.  
  
“Sometimes the smell that get’s into hair is too far gone.  The only way to handle it is to just shave it off,” she shrugged, Rick’s hands instantly going to his groin.  
  
“But I didn’t get any fish guts in my pants,” Rick stammered.  
  
“Oh you didn’t?  Huh?” she pondered.  “Oh well.”  
  
“Wait!  Weren’t you afraid I would’ve woken up?  I mean,” Rick said as he ran his hand through his hair, “I know the cake was pretty strong, but…”  
  
“Oh silly.  Pfft!  Cake wouldn’t have put you out.  You weren’t _that_ drunk.  You were just sleepy, not unconscious.  Couldn’t have you wake up though.  Didn’t wanna nick you or something,” Carol winced.  
  
“So if it wasn’t the cake,” Rick said.  
  
Carol shook her head back and forth while making her way to the door.  “That was what the chloroform was for silly.  Well bye,” she smiled as she waved and walked out the door.  
  
Everyone stood staring at the door Carol just walked out of, completely stunned speechless.  
  
“Well,” Andrea said, breaking the long silence, “that was anticlimactic.”  
  
“The whole day,” Rick sputtered.  He looked around the apartment.  
  
Oh well.  
  
What was he going to do?  
  
Nothing. 

Absolutely nothing.  
  
She _had_ meant well after all.  
  
“I’m gonna go put my clothes back on,” Rick said, suddenly feeling very exposed.  
  
“Spoilsport,” Michonne muttered.  
  
Rick walked into his bedroom and went to grab the jeans and underwear that he had left on the floor when trying on the clothes.  
  
“Hey!” Rick said as he came running out of the bedroom.  “Who took my fucking clothes?!?”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sure you can spot the references in the show.
> 
> And yep, Carol had been part of the plan when I first started writing this story.
> 
> Next up is the rehearsal party and the wedding.
> 
> I was thinking of writing an interlude though, one from the POV of either Daryl or Gareth, while they're on the hunting trip.


	13. INTERLUDE:  It's like Robin Hood, without the tights.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small thing really.
> 
> Gareth basically calling Daryl out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER!!!!!! I'm not sure if there are any Starbuck executives that hunt. This is all part of my warped and damaged mind.
> 
> But if they did, this is what it would be like...
> 
> (I might have to add a disclaimer for that too. ;P)

 

  
  
“You gonna clean that blood off your face any time soon?” Daryl asked Gareth as he sat down on one of the camp chairs situated around the fire pit.  
  
“Guess it’s time, huh?” Gareth winced, as he started to wipe off the blood smeared on his cheeks and forehead, the evidence of his first kill, a deer who had never done anything to him.  
  
Then again, he _had_ been partially responsible for the death of a countless number of gophers only last weekend.  
  
He wasn’t about to let the death of one lone creature of the forest stand between him and climbing up the corporate ladder.  
  
“I remember when my daddy did that to me,” Daryl acknowledged.  “You did good.  Only took five tries.”  
  
Ouch!    
  
If you were to look up back-handed compliments in the dictionary, the latter part of Daryl's statement would no doubt, be listed there as an example.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Gareth grumbled.  “I never shot a crossbow before, so go ahead and laugh at me.”  
  
“So why ain’t you over there with them execs.  Thought that was why you came out here,” Daryl grumbled, “to bond or socialize or… _network_.”  
  
“Network?!” Gareth sputtered.  “Daryl!  You’re sounding like one of those movers and shakers.  And here I was, thinking you were a simple country boy at heart,” he said as he put his hand on his chest.  
  
“Quit being an ass,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“Ah, now there’s the Dixon we all know and love,” Gareth chuckled.  “I think I’ve bonded with the higher ups long enough.  Besides…they’re arguing now.”  
  
“What?  Comparin’ each other’s dick size?” Daryl laughed.  
  
“They’re arguing over who would be the person to hook up with after a zombie apocalypse.  Casey Ryback or John McClane,” Gareth scoffed.  
  
“Seriously?” Daryl sputtered.  
  
“Yeah, I know, right?!” Gareth snickered.  “Everyone knows it would be Master Chief,” he nodded in all seriousness.  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head.  
  
“Wanna make a wager?” Gareth asked.  
  
He hoped Daryl would take the bait.  
  
“I’m listening,” Daryl said.  
  
“If I can hit _that_ tree,” Gareth said as he pointed to the tree straight ahead, “with your crossbow, then,” he trailed off, hesitant to go on.  
  
“Yeah?” Daryl asked as he looked up at Gareth under his eyes.  
  
“Then Rick isn’t a zero on the Kinsey Scale,” Gareth said in a rush to get the words out.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell Gareth!” Daryl scoffed angrily.  
  
“Oh come on, it’ll be fun,” Gareth whined.  
  
“It don’t mean nothing.  You can’t hit a tree or in your case, _not_ hit a tree and think that means anything!” Daryl barked incredulously.  "You can't base Rick's sexuality on _that_!"  
  
Gareth got up from the camp chair and casually grabbed the crossbow, leaning against the tree, “then there’s nothing to worry about.”  
  
Facing the tree, roughly ten feet away, he pulled back the bow and set the bolt.  
  
“You ain’t even gonna hit it,” Daryl said off-handedly, as he waved his hand in the air.  
  
Gareth held the crossbow up and pulled the trigger, sending the bolt flying through the air.  
  
And watched as it missed the tree and hit the log nextto it instead _._  
  
“Guess Rick _is_ as straight as a ruler,” Gareth shrugged nonchalantly, as he turned around.  
  
“Maybe we should try best two outta three or something,” Daryl shrugged, just as indifferently, as he sat back in the chair.  
  
Gareth mentally patted himself on the back for _finally_ having Daryl Dixon’s number.  
  
The man who always prided himself on being exceptionally hard to read.  
  
Smiling quietly to himself, Gareth set another bolt into the weapon.  He was about ready to pull the trigger, when he felt Daryl come up behind him quickly, the man making sure he was aiming correctly.  
  
“Might as well teach you how to aim the damn thing,” Daryl mumbled under his breath as he kicked the ground.  
  
Gareth pulled the trigger, the bolt hitting the tree this time.  
  
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” Gareth smiled.  
  
“Don’t mean nothing,” Daryl grumbled again.  
  
“So you said.  Fuck Daryl!  We’ve all seen you looking at Rick.  You think you’re hiding it really well?  I’m surprised you’re here and not back at the apartment, keeping Rick’s virtue safe from Beth and Michonne,” Gareth scoffed.  
  
“Got this trip.  They’re paying me pretty well,” Daryl said.    
  
“Could’ve cancelled,” Gareth shrugged.  “Not like you need the money.”  
  
Gareth lifted the crossbow after loading it once more and aimed for the tree, Daryl coming up behind him once again and readjusting his position.  
  
“I like Rick.  Seems like a nice guy.  Just click with him is all.  Nothing else’ll ever come out of it,” Daryl said wistfully.  
  
“But you want it to,” Gareth said.  
  
“Can’t always get what you want,” Daryl said.  
  
“Ah, the ever elusive words of Mick Jagger,” Gareth quipped as he pulled the trigger, releasing the bolt.  
  
It hit the tree again.  
  
“Yes!” Gareth said as he made a fist pumping motion.  “And Rick is definitely on the scale!”  
  
Gareth looked over at Daryl as he sat, slumped in his chair, a tiny smile starting on his lips.  “Still don’t mean nothing.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Gareth said as stared at the tree, not willing to let this drop anytime soon.  “Tell you what.  What about another wager?”  
  
“What?  If you hit the tree again, coffee Yoda over there’ll train you as a _real_ Jedi?” Daryl chuckled.  
  
“Don’t mock the power of the coffee force,” Gareth said seriously before smiling.  “So if I hit in between those two bolts on the tree, I’ll get first shot at Rick’s pristine ass.”  
  
And here it comes.  
  
Three, two, one…  
  
“What?!” Daryl yelled.  “You…you…it’s not…you can’t,” he sputtered.  Quietly grumbling, Daryl stood up, grabbed the crossbow out of Gareth’s hands, grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl on the table and skewered the fruit onto his bolt.  
  
He then shot the bolt at the tree, the bolt securing the apple to the trunk.  
  
“You wanna wager?  Okay, here,” Daryl said huffily as he pointed to the tree.  “You manage to actually _hit_ the apple so it splits in two, _then_ I’ll step aside,” he said as he shrugged, a mean, challenging glint in his eye.  
  
Gareth looked at the tree and the apple.  
  
It was like something out of the Odyssey.  
  
Daryl might as well have asked him to string Odysseus’ bow and shoot an arrow through twelve axe heads.  
  
All for the hand of Penelope.  
  
Or in this case, Rick.  
  
Daryl was staking his claim on their new tasty neighbor.  
  
Hell, he might as well have peed all over him.  
  
“I can’t do that!” Gareth sputtered incredulously.  
  
“I know,” Daryl said as he sat back down in the camp chair, a satisfied smile upon his lips.  
  
A sudden image of Rick popped into Gareth’s head.  
  
An image of that very tasty, very untouched and now very off-limits ass, with the words PROPERTY OF DARYL DIXON stamped across it.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will be returning to our regularly scheduled programming soon.
> 
> I've gone to both kid's concerts, one kid is back from their retreat, the other retreat is a couple of weeks from now and my son's tux has been rented.
> 
> *wipes brow*
> 
> *breathes*


	14. INTERLUDE, TAKE TWO: Pretty Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another small chapter.
> 
> This is Merle's POV.
> 
> And he's hoping to get some action from one of the pretty ladies of the night.
> 
> Also, trust me on this. It does have something to do with the story. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next chapter almost cleaned up for my Amnesia!Rick fic and I'll post that tomorrow.
> 
> This got into my brain and I needed to exorcise it out.
> 
> It's much easier to just write it than calling for a priest.

  
Merle's POV

  
  
  
  
“Get the fuck outta here Merle!” yelled the angry bartender as he literally kicked the drunken man out.  
  
“Yeah, well, your whiskey is watered down!” Merle yelled back, stumbling backward as he did so.  “And your beer tastes like piss!  _Watered down_ piss!”  
  
Waving the bar away, Merle made his way down the street, a street in a part of town that made the seedier parts of Atlanta look positively _upscale_.  
  
He only came out that way when Daryl was out of town.  
  
At first he was happy to see his baby brother go away, if only so he wouldn’t have to watch him make googly eyes at their new neighbor.  
  
But now he missed the little shit.  
  
“Merle don’t need Daryl,” Merle grumbled as he swayed down the sidewalk, slowly approaching some streetwalkers.  “Merle don’t need no bars with piss poor beer neither.”  He stopped to scratch his balls and rearrange his pants.  “Merle _does_ need to get some action though.”  
  
He knew he was exceptionally horny when he started talking in the third person.  
  
“Hey baby,” one of the women called out, her make-up smeared and her ridiculously tight clothing trying to hold in her hefty frame.  “Twenty five for a hand job.  Fifty if you want me to go down on you.”  
  
“Merle ain’t that desperate,” he chuckled.  
  
God, the lot of them were hideous.  
  
They were either too old with everything drooping in an unappetizing way or too young, or his age, but too strung out.  
  
He kept walking.  
  
It figured.  
  
Probably all the good ones already had their johns for the night.  
  
“Good luck asshole!” one of them yelled.  “I wouldn’t go down on you for a hundred!”  
  
“Yeah well,” Merle yelled back.  “I wouldn’t go down on you if _you paid me_ five hundred!”  
  
He came to the end of the street and stopped at the opening to an alleyway.  
  
One lone girl stood against the corner.  She wasn’t surrounded by any of the other girls.  
  
And she didn’t seem to be approaching any of the cars driving by either.  
  
She just leaned against the brick of the building, waiting for someone to come to her.  
  
In fact, the way she was working that lollipop, slowly licking the treat, twirling it and taking it out before sticking it back in her mouth, she seemed to have all the time in the world.  
  
She was definitely different from all the rest.  
  
She would have been classified as petite except for the fact that she was too tall for that.  She wasn’t emaciated, but she was lean.  Her body held a certain strength to it.  
  
Her spike-heeled, black boots skimmed just the top of her knees.  They drew the eyes upward to her toned thighs, encased in a pair of filmy black stockings.  
  
From there, Merle feasted his eyes on the small skirt that showcased one of the most perfect derrieres he had _ever_ seen.

Yes, _ever_.  
  
It was round and firm and the curves were in just the exact right places.  
  
He almost didn’t care if the lovely vision in front of him had a nice rack because he would be happy with that ass alone.  
  
There was a large belt with a decorative buckle that encircled the narrow hips and allowed the skirt to lay low, just over the hipbones.  She wore a white top.  It was what women called a peasant top, with long, flowing sleeves that draped off the bare shoulders.  
  
Beautiful, smooth shoulders.  
  
And around the slim neck was a delicate leather choker.  
  
He watched in rapt fascination as the woman continued to lick at the lollipop.  Her hair, a short wavy bob, was fashioned after Marilyn Monroe’s, only instead of blonde, it was a golden red color.  Also, the way it dipped down, it covered half her face.  
  
Of course, he couldn’t see her face since her head was bent down.  
  
But he could see her lips as they continued to tease passers-by with the candy.  
  
They were plump, soft looking, pouty lips.   
  
And they were tinged just the tiniest bit of red from the lollipop, the one she continued to lap at, slowly, sensually.  
  
Like she had nothing better to do with her time except fellate that damn lollipop.  
  
It was the sweetest thing he had ever seen.  
  
And the filthiest.  
  
And now his erection was actually _hurting_ him.  
  
Merle sighed when he cast his eyes on the vision before him.  
  
She was far too fine to be out here with the the other working girls.  
  
He couldn’t believe she hadn’t already been hooked up for the night.  
  
And while he was standing there, being completely smitten with the woman, a streetwalker of all people no less, he decided he would try.  
  
Because he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t.  
  
“Hey baby.  You wanna come back with ole Merle?  Promise you won’t find any better tonight,” Merle said in the best pick up voice he could muster.  “Aw hell.  I’ll pay you twice whatever your going rate is.”  
  
Just in case his best pick up voice _didn’t_ work.  
  
The licking of the lollipop suddenly stopped and a ‘pop’ could be heard as it came out of those sinful lips.  
  
Then the head came up abruptly.  
  
“Merle?” the vision said.  
  
A vision with a very distinctive _male_ voice.  
  
Merle looked into the face.  
  
Unlike all the other girls, the make-up was tastefully done.  
  
She looked awfully familiar.  
  
And then it hit him.  
  
He thought he was going to throw up all over the pavement.  
  
“Rick?” Merle whispered.  
  
“Oh fuck, look you gotta go,” Rick pleaded.  “You’re gonna blow my cover.”  
  
“Rick?” Merle said again.  
  
Oh yeah.  He knew he was going to throw up all over the pavement.  
  
“I’m undercover right now.  Vice needed someone to pose as one of the hookers cause some john’s been picking up ladies and beating ‘em up,” Rick said quickly.  
  
And then it started becoming more clear.  
  
That’s right.  
  
Rick was a cop.  
  
“Don’t they got female cops for that?” Merle grumbled.  
  
“He knows all the females so they picked me cause, well,” Rick shrugged.  
  
He really didn’t need Rick to finish that sentence.  
  
He knew why they picked him.  
  
“So, ain’t that kinda dangerous?  Waitin’ to be picked up by some psycho?” Merle asked, his brow creasing.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Rick said, “but I am a cop you know.  Part of the job description.”  
  
“Daryl’ll throw a hissy fit if he knew what you were doin,’” Merle said.  
  
To say the least.  
  
“‘M pretty sure ‘hunting boar’ ain’t on the ‘Safest things to do’ list,” Rick scoffed.  
  
Rick took a radio out of the purse hanging off one shoulder and spoke into it.  “Lamson, come in.”  
  
“Hey Grimes, what’s up?” came the voice, a line of static trailing behind.  
  
“This ain’t our perp.  I repeat, this ain’t the perp, He’s,” Rick sighed, “my neighbor.”  
  
Laughing could be heard over the radio.  “Setting up a date for later Grimes?”  
  
“Fuck you Gorman!” Rick said into the radio.  
  
“Rick, you need your friend to go away, _now_.  A guy that matches the description of our perp is headed your way,” Sergeant Lamson replied seriously.  
  
“Got it,” Rick said abruptly, cutting off radio transmission and stashing the device in the purse.  
  
“You gotta go now Merle,” Rick said as he righted himself, pulling the skirt back into place and readjusting his shirt.  
  
“So if I gave you a fifty, you wouldn’t go down on me?” Merle asked teasingly.  
  
“No, but I know they’re some lovely ladies over there who will,” Rick said as he shooed Merle away again.  
  
Merle turned around and started to walk away, looking back one more time at his new neighbor as Rick leaned against the building, that damn lollipop going back into his mouth once again.  
  
He wondered if it was a genetic thing.  That if there was something in their shared DNA.  
  
But it was a very curious thing, the strange fascination that the Dixon men seemed to have for Rick fucking Grimes.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry to Andrew Lincoln.
> 
> I love this man so much too. ;P
> 
> Also, are people still reading this story? I used to get more comments.


	15. Interlude, Take Three:  Daryl comes home.  'Nuff said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not sure if anyone knows this, but I have a livejournal account. (Okay, you probably didn't know that). If you ever want to talk to me there, you can. I just started posting there again, very sporadically. Also, the prom is now over. Now it's 2 graduations, some parties and a recital. Whew!
> 
> So if you want to see some pics of my evil spawn in a tux, you can go [here](http://slave-o-spike.livejournal.com/110394.html).
> 
> As soon as the middle of the week comes around, I should get back to normal. 
> 
> Or be committed...

  
  
  
Merle’s POV (yes, again…)  
  
  
  
“You know baby brother, this ’s probably the _best damn phone_ you ever bought me,” Merle said, an appreciative smile on his face.  
  
And it truly was.  
  
At least, he was about to tell Daryl _why_ it was, when the younger Dixon started launching into a tirade about something or other.  
  
“Why’s Rick got a black eye, Merle?” Daryl shouted angrily at Merle.  “Huh?  How come I see’s him and he goes running into his apartment before I could even say a goddamned ‘hello, nice to see you again after my long ass trip, the trip I was stuck with Gareth in for the past four days, four days spent in _hell!_ ’”  
  
“Maybe cuz that was probably the longest fuckin’ ‘hello’ in the history of saying hello?” Merle asked.  
  
Of course he would be bitching about Rick.  
  
“Did you have somethin’ to do with that black eye of his?” Daryl asked, getting into Merle’s space.  
  
He loved his little brother dearly, but when he became protective of something, or _someone_ , he was scary as hell.  
  
“No, I did not,” Merle pouted.  “I knows why he got it, but I ain’t got nothing to do with it,” he said smugly.  
  
“Then what happened?” Daryl asked as he looked on in concern, sitting down on the leather chair across from the sofa, which Merle was currently sprawled upon.  
  
Merle loved the feeling of the leather.  
  
It wasn’t that awful vinyl stuff, the stuff that made a lot of noise when you sat down on it and was always sticky when the weather was too hot.  
  
It was real leather that felt as soft as butter, if butter was the kind of thing that could be made into something you could sit on.  
  
Daryl had paid quite a bit of money for the sofa and chair set.  
  
Just like he had with Merle’s phone.  
  
But Daryl didn’t want to talk about the phone.  
  
He wanted to talk about _Rick_.  
  
Merle was reluctant to relate the story of what happened to their new neighbor, because then he would have to bring up everything that led up to the altercation.  
  
_Everything._  
  
“So you see…now ‘member,” Merle said hesitantly, “Rick’s a cop.”  
  
“He got it while working?” Daryl asked, seeming to stand down and relax further into the comfortable chair, at least now, his mind at ease, knowing it wasn’t anything to do with the apartment building.  
  
“Well, ’s funny you should use the word ‘ _working_ ,’” Merle chuckled nervously.  “So there’s this fella.  He’s been pickin’ up gals, you know…the working kind…”  
  
“You mean girls at the factories?” Daryl asked.  
  
“No,” Merle said as he shook his head, “the other working kind.”  
  
“Nurses?” Daryl asked.  
  
“The other kind,” Merle said as he leaned in.  
  
Daryl looked up at his brother in confusion.  “Teachers, vets, retailers, fast food.  What Merle…what?”  
  
“Hookers!” Merle yelled.  
  
Sometimes, Merle just did not get his brother.  
  
“Oh,” Daryl said.  “Why didn’t you just say so?  Fuck!  Okay, so there’s this john pickin’ up hookers and...go on.”  
  
“He’s been taking ‘em to his apartment and hittin’ on ‘em,” Merle said.  
  
“Hitting on ‘em?” Daryl asked.  “Why?  Ain’t that a sure thing.  I mean, they are hookers!”  
  
“Not hitting _on_ ‘em, like I do at a bar on a Friday night, but _hitting_ them.  Okay, so I might’ve said it wrong,” Merle muttered.  
  
“Okay, so you gotta john, who’s taking hookers back home and beatin’ on them.  Got it,” Daryl nodded.  “So what?  Rick was involved in some stake out over on Cherry Street?”  
  
“How do you know there’re hookers over on Cherry Street, baby brother?” Merle asked, a look of astonishment on his face.  
  
“Focus Merle!” Daryl said.  “So was Rick involved in some stake out over there?”  
  
“Well, yeah, he was involved a’right,” Merle said as he wiped the back of his neck and looked away.  “He was…undercover.”  
  
“Like, he pretended to be a john?” Daryl asked innocently.  
  
“No, no,” Merle said as he shook his head and stared down at the floor.  “More like…like he put on a skirt, some make-up and a wig and _worked_ the corner,” he said quickly.  
  
“You mean, he,” Daryl said brokenly, as he stared off into space.  
  
“Yeah.  And I gotta tell you,” Merle laughed, “I sorta see what you like ‘bout him.”  
  
“Rick was dressed like a…he was working,” Daryl stuttered before he came to a stop again, obviously trying to process the information Merle had just given him.  “Was he wearin’ heels?” Daryl asked quietly.  
  
“He was wearin’ them thigh-high boots,” Merle said, as he pointed to this knee cap, “and these black hose were peeking outta them before you got to the skirt.  Oh man!” Merle exclaimed.  “ _That skirt!_   Whew!  I tell you.  I ain’t seen no fe-male this side of the Mason-Dixon line that could fill out a skirt like that boy of yours!”  
  
“He ain’t my boy!” Daryl snapped before peering at Merle irritably.  “You were checkin’ out Rick’s ass?!”  
  
“Oh come on!” Merle sputtered.  “I was lonely.  Wanted some action.  All them other ladies were nasty,” he grimaced.  “And she was just standin’ there,” he recalled fondly before shaking his head clear.  “I mean he… _he_!”  
  
“You tried to pick up Rick?!” Daryl shouted as he stood up swiftly.  
  
“I didn’t know it was Rick.  I thought it was some damn Lolita type hooker!” Merle said back defensively.  
  
“Lolita?” Daryl asked.  
  
“The way she was workin’ her…ya know…schtick!  The way she…I mean, _he_ …worked that damn lollipop.  Fuck,” Merle whistled, “boy’s got skills.”  
  
“Lollipop?” Daryl croaked.  
  
“The way he was just standin’ there, suckin’ on that thing,” Merle mused as he recalled the image, “then dragging his tongue over and over the thing, slowly…Holy fuck!  I’m getting a chubby just thinking ‘bout it again,” Merle said as he stopped himself.  
  
“He was,” Daryl swallowed before shaking his head clear and turning angry.  “What kind of damn place are the Atlanta PD running?!  Why didn’t they use one of their own damn _female_ cops?!”  
  
“Rick said the guy knew all the ladies already.  So’s they needed someone he don’t know,” Merle shrugged.  
  
“So they picked Rick?!” Daryl shouted.  “Weren’t bad enough they stuffed fish guts down his pants and in his hair and made him walk through the damn city as penguin bait, but they held him down and dressed him up and stood him on a corner?!”  
  
“Well, as a matter of fact, it was the munchers,” Merle winced.  
  
“You know I hate that word,” Daryl said.  
  
“It was Andrea and Michonne that dolled him up.  He was all done up snazzy like.  They gave him this Marilyn Monroe wig too.  With that mouth and the hair, he done look like that Black Widow chick from them Avengers movies.  I mean, shit!  He done fooled ole Merle,” Merle said as he shook his head in disbelief.  “I was about to offer him _twice_ his going rate…when I thought it was some street walker, not when I found out it was Rick.”  
  
“You use the money I give you…to buy _hookers_?!” Daryl sputtered.  
  
“Now, now,” Merle admonished, trying to deflect.  “We’re talking ‘bout your boyfriend here.  Don’t go off subject.”  
  
Daryl slumped back down on the chair.  “So the black eye?”  
  
“Well, I was gettin’ to that!” Merle said.  “So, sure enough, the john they’s been looking for comes up and asked Rick to come home with him.”  
  
“So Rick just went to the apartment of some psycho?!” Daryl yelled, bouncing up from the chair again.  
  
“Sit down!  He’s a cop, remember?  Part of the job description,” Merle said, echoing the words Rick had said to him only last night.  
  
“What?  Rick gets to this asshole’s apartment and _what_?” Daryl asked, his menacing voice starting to edge over into dangerous territory.  
  
Merle knew that voice.  
  
It usually came right before Daryl did something that he would usually regret later.  
  
“He got to the guy’s place,” Merle continued hesitantly, “then the guy starts gettin’ handsy.”  
  
It was here that Merle heard a low growl emanate somewhere from within Daryl.  
  
“And that’s when he realized Rick weren’t exactly sportin’ the right plumbing, if you know what I mean,” Merle said.  
  
“For fucks sake Merle!  Just say he found out Rick had a _cock_!” Daryl yelled.  “A cock!  A cock!  Fuck, I’ve heard you say nastier shit than that before.  Damn!” Daryl barked.   
  
“Sorry baby brother but ‘m feelin’ a mite vulnerable right now, on accounting I tried to pick up Rick,” Merle sulked.  
  
“Stop sayin’ that!” Daryl barked again.  “‘M trying to get that picture outta my head.  So, that when he decked Rick?  When he found out he weren’t no girl?”  
  
“Nope,” Merle said as he shook his head.  “That's the funny thing.  All a sudden, Rick said, the guy looked different.  Rick said he went from this angry asshole, to a guy who was looking at him with something like…like _awe_.  Like Rick was some gift sent down from heaven, if heaven were the kinda place that sent guys in drag down to work dirty street corners.”  
  
“So this asshole was,” Daryl started.  
  
“Yep, you got it.  This guy should be a god-damned PSA for why you oughtn’t stay hidden in the fuckin’ closet,” Merle said, nodding emphatically.  “Rick was exactly what this motherfucker’s been lookin’ for all his life.  A Lolita with a cock.  Told Rick he was gonna turn over a new leaf.  Told Rick he was gonna make him his _love bunny_.”  
  
“Love… _love_ bunny?!” Daryl stammered.  
  
“Well Rick weren’t about to be anybody’s love bunny, ‘specially this asshole, so he flashes him his badge,” Merle said.  
  
“That when the guy hit him?” Daryl asked, a lost expression on his face.  
  
“Naw,” Merle said as he waved his hand away.  “Way Rick tells it, the guy’s all, 'I don’t care.'  And 'Our love ain’t got no labels' and 'Rick was meant to be with him.  Blah, blah, blah.’  Them’s Rick’s words.”  
  
“So iffen the guy weren’t mad at Rick, what happened?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Well, the guy started takin’ ya know… _liberties_ …with Rick,” Merle said, as he looked away again.  
  
The growl that came out of Daryl’s mouth that time made Merle wonder if they should get a priest.  
  
Or maybe he should just start chanting ‘the power of Christ compels you.’  
  
“He tried to violate Rick?!” Daryl roared.  
  
“Do you know you’re louder than your bike right now Daryl?” Merle asked.  
  
“Did he…is Rick?!” Daryl sputtered.  
  
Daryl was leaving indentations in the leather where his hand was gripping the armrest.  
  
“Settle down.  Settle down,” Merle urged.  “Rick’s a tough sumabitch.  He fought back.  Got the asshole on the ground.  Kept yelling at him that he wasn’t anybody’s god-damned love bunny.  That’s when the other cops come on the scene.  Practically had to pull Rick off the fucker with a fuckin’ crowbar.”  
  
“So the guy didn’t…he wasn’t the one to hit Rick,” Daryl stuttered.  “And he didn’t do _anything_ to Rick.”  
  
“Nope,” Merle said matter-of-factly.  “Rick was never…oh what was the word he used… _defiled!_ ”  
  
“Then who in the hell hit him?!” Daryl shouted.  
  
“It was when Rick was bending over to pull up his hose.  Gorman, that fucker, I tell you what Daryl, this 's why I hate cops.  Well, Gorman made some comment ‘bout Rick’s ass.  That even _he_ would tap it,” Merle said.  “So’s Rick, cuz he’s kinda a flippant fucker himself, gets back up and says, ‘even if you could find your pencil dick Gorman, I wouldn’t let it near my cherry ass.’  So Gorman decked him.”  
  
“Huh,” Daryl huffed.  He sat back down and contemplated the far wall.  “So you’re tellin’ me, while I was gone, Rick dressed up in drag, got picked up by a psycho who wanted him to be his _love bunny_ ,” Daryl scoffed, “then tried to rape him, and was sexually harassed by one of his co-workers that ended in a _beat down_?!”  
  
“You forgot the part where I almost picked him up too.  Called him ‘baby’ and everything,” Merle said, then shut his mouth at the nasty look Daryl threw his way.  
  
Merle watched the way his brother continued to stare off into space.  
  
“So,” Merle started off quietly.  “I really wanted to tell you what a great phone it is you got me.”  
  
“What?!” Daryl scoffed.  
  
“Yeah, look,” Merle said as he clicked over the photos he managed to take without Rick’s knowledge.  “That’s him, leanin’ against the wall,” Merle said as he pointed out one of the images.  
  
“What’s that ‘round his neck?” Daryl asked, his voice breaking again.  
  
“Some leather choker the gals gave him,” Merle shrugged.  
  
Merle watched Daryl’s face as he took in the picture.  
  
“He…that… _oh god_ ,” Daryl croaked, as he swallowed thickly, the phone shaking as he held it in his trembling hands.  
  
“That ain’t nothing.  Wait till you see how good the video quality is.  I took one of him working that lollipop,” Merle said as he played the video.  
  
Daryl stood watching the video as it played.  
  
“Daryl?” Merle said, trying to get his attention.  
  
His brother did not utter _one_ word while he watched the video, the mini movie looping around and playing on repeat.  
  
“Daryl?” Merle asked again, a little bit louder.  
  
Merle had to mark this as a red letter day.  
  
It had never happened before.

And Merle knew it wasn't exactly something he should be proud of.  
  
But he was pretty sure he had finally broken his baby brother.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, Daryl's head just exploded.
> 
> But he should be coming around for the bachelor and bachelorette party in the next chapter, so tick around.


	16. Having your cake and eating it too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, seriously, this chapter was like giving birth. And my fifth kid only took 45 minutes, so this was worse. Plus you know, you get a baby human afterwards...
> 
> So yeah, I had to re-write it a few times since it needed to flow correctly, so enjoy!
> 
> Also, we're back to Rick's POV as this is not an interlude.

 

  
  
  
  
Rick peered at his face in the bathroom mirror, a garish, oval thing embellished in a white-washed finish.  
  
He touched the area under his eye, the diminishing bruise not as painful to the touch as it was only yesterday.  
  
His shoulders slumped, Rick sighed as he made his way out of the bathroom, ashamed at the way he had earlier tried to avoid his neighbor, Daryl, the one person in the building that he had grown to care about, the one person who seemed to care for _him_ in return.  
  
But he couldn’t help it.  
  
Daryl would have seen the eye and asked a lot of questions, and then Rick would have had to explain exactly what had happened.  
  
And that was one story he didn’t want to visit again, ever really, but especially with someone like Daryl.  
  
Rick went into the bedroom to get ready for the bachelor party tonight.  
  
Word around the building was that it was going to be something that would not soon be forgotten.  
  
Fastening the last of the buttons on his grey button up shirt, he thought back to how things seemed to be falling into place for the night.  
  
Lori had called and said she would have to bring Carl and Judith over in the morning because they had a family function to go to at Shane’s parent’s house and she wanted to take the kids.  She had assured him she would bring them to his place in plenty of time for the wedding.  
  
As luck would have it, that worked well for him, as now he didn’t have to locate a sitter, the kind that would watch Judith with an eagle’s eye, yet the kind that Carl wouldn’t feel resentful about since he felt he didn’t _need_ a sitter anymore.  Rick knew Beth and Amy would be perfect for watching his baby girl, but they would both be at the bachelorette party for Maggie tonight and the rest of the building had already come up with alternate babysitting plans.  
  
Yes, things were falling into place, which made him be on the alert even more than ever now.  
  
Rick had just finished putting on his boots when he heard a knock on the door.  
  
“Rick!” came the booming voice on the other side.  
  
Daryl.  
  
Well, time to face the music.  
  
“Hey Daryl,” Rick said as he opened the door, keeping his head turned away the whole time.  
  
“You don’t gotta hide Rick, I seen your eye when you rushed into your apartment before,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“Figured,” Rick said as he raised his head and looked his neighbor squarely in the eye.  
  
“Fuck Rick!” Daryl exclaimed.  “That looks real bad.”  
  
“Come on in.  Might as well tell you the whole story ‘fore the bachelor party.  Hey, where’s it at?” Rick asked as he stepped aside for Daryl to walk in.  
  
“Tyreese’s,” Daryl said.  “The girls’ party’s on the roof.  They gotta stage and a pole and everything.”  
  
“Stage and pole?” Rick sputtered.  “What’re they planning?”   
  
“Male strippers.  Alex and Marty planned all of Glenn’s party and helped Sasha with hers too,” Daryl said.    
  
“You’re kidding?!” Rick said.  
  
He didn’t think Alex and Marty could plan a bowel movement.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl sighed.  “It were supposed to be me and Gareth, but well, we had to go on that damn bonding,” Daryl said while rolling his eyes, making air quotes around the word ‘bonding,’ “huntin’ trip with them Starbuck’s execs.  Do me a favor.  Next time them fuckers call me, I don’t care how much money they're offering, tell ‘em I died on some _expedition_.”  
  
“That bad?” Rick winced.  
  
“Thought it was gonna be some weird set up.  Like they hired me and then they decided to hunt _me_ down instead of some boar or some shit,” Daryl lamented as he sat down on the couch.  “Man, once those assholes got into the woods," he said as he shook his head, "these fuckers probably drive one of them Tesla’s to work everyday, ride them expensive bicycles down country roads on the weekends and wear _environmentally_ friendly clothing but when they got out there, they changed Rick.  They _changed_ ,” he shuddered as he got a far away look in his eyes.  
  
“Sounds great!” Rick smiled, far too brightly.  “Tell me all ‘bout it.”  
  
“Oh no, you ain’t gettin’ me off the subject that easy!” Daryl groused.  “Tell me what happened.”  
  
“Well,” Rick said, trying to evade the actual question, “we got this one scumbag, that we brought in for questioning…”  
  
“This don’t got nothin’ to do with your eye, Rick,” Daryl said.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll get to the eye, but let me tell you ‘bout this fucker first.  So, we get this guy in the station, and Sargeant Lamson and me start questioning him, Lamson picking me on accountin’ I’m the only one who can seem to keep an even head.  Go figure,” Rick scoffed.  “And we’re asking for names of the other assholes in his group…”  
  
“Which group?” Daryl asked, a frown on his face.    
  
“The jackass we’re questioning,” Rick exclaimed.  “Keep up Daryl.”  
  
“Thought you meant the other cop assholes.  Anyway, go on,” Daryl waved.  
  
“So’s we start asking for the names of his accomplices, the one’s responsible for all these crimes in one neighborhood,” Rick said.  “And he was squirming and sweating.  He didn’t wanna give them names up.”  
  
“I get that,” Daryl said.  
  
“Then Lamson starts really leanin’ on him so he starts throwing out names,” Rick said.  
  
“Well, that’s good, right?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Yeah, ‘cept for the fact the first name he gave out was a guy by the name of ‘Duncan,’” Rick said.  
  
“I don’t get it,” Daryl said.  
  
“Well, I didn’t either at first, so’s I write the name down when Lamson nodded my way,” Rick said.  “Then the next name he gives out was Clark.  So’s I write that one down.”  
  
“Where’s this going?” Daryl asked as he leaned in closer.  
  
“Next name, well, he takes a lot longer, then he spits out ‘Hershey!’” Rick exclaimed.  
  
“Her… _Hershey_?” Daryl sputtered.  “Like the candy bar?”  
  
“Yeah, so’s I look over and sure enough, there’s Gorman, that prick, eating a Hershey bar.  And I look over at O’Donnell’s desk, and he’s got a Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup right there,” Rick said.  
  
“Don’t tell me,” Daryl started.  
  
“Yeah, there was another candy bar on another cop’s desk.  A _Clark_ bar,” Rick said.  “So’s I look the fucker in the eye, and in no uncertain terms, yell, ‘you ain’t pulling no Keyser Soze on us you cocksucker.’”  
  
“You said that?” Daryl asked, his eyes wide in surprise.  
  
“’S been a stressful week,” Rick shrugged.  “You know what that asshole did?”  
  
“No clue,” Daryl said.  
  
“He says, ‘I’m tellin’ the truth.  Trust me,’” Rick said in an imitation of the other man's voice, a rather feminine imitation at that.  “So’s I said, 'okay, give us another name.'  And you know what that asshole did then?”  
  
“Still no fuckin' clue,” Daryl said.  
  
“He gives us a name alright.  Right after Lerner passed us by with her coffee cup, he says, ‘Starbucks!’” Rick exclaimed.  “Lamson had enough and he had Gorman take him to a cell.”  
  
“He was doing okay 'til he got to Hershey,” Daryl shrugged.  “So…”  
  
“My eye?” Rick winced.  “Not satisfied with the other story, huh?”  
  
“Not one bit,” Daryl said as he leaned against the couch and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“So I sorta went _undercover_ ,” Rick grimaced.  
  
“Sorta?” Daryl asked.  “Like, I dunno, a drug dealer, wearing one of them wires?”  
  
If Rick had worn a wire, he wasn’t sure where he would have put it, his outfit having been quite snug as well as revealing.  
  
“Not exactly,” Rick squirmed.  
  
“When you say ‘not exactly,’ do you mean cuz you were bullied into wearing drag, and selling your tight body on a street corner, trying to get picked up by some psycho, _getting_ picked up by said psycho who tried something on you all before your asshole coworker punched you after he sexually harassed you?” Daryl managed to get out all in one breath.  “Is that what _‘not exactly’_ means?”  
  
Why on earth did he think Merle would keep his mouth shut about the whole thing.  
  
Oh that’s right, because it was _Merle_.  
  
“Merle?” Rick grimaced.  
  
God, he hoped it was Merle.    
  
He would hate to think it was anybody else in the building that had related the story back to Daryl.  
  
“Of course it were Merle!” Daryl exclaimed.  “Tell me that perverted fuck is in jail!”  
  
“Merle?” Rick asked.  
  
“No!  Not Merle!” Daryl growled.    
  
“Oh yeah,” Rick said as he leaned back against the couch as well, bumping shoulders with Daryl.  “You know when that creep was in the station, and we were asking him how many girls he roughed up, he wouldn’t answer.  Jus’ kept looking at me.  Actually told me he loved me at one point,” Rick said as he shook his head.  He suddenly leaned forward and looked Daryl straight in the eye and tilted his head.  “He wanted to make me his,” he said as he looked around in shame, “his _love_ bunny.”  
  
“What the hell is that even?” Daryl asked.  
  
“I dunno, but I didn’t wanna find out,” Rick shuddered.  
  
Both men looked at each other, both trying hard to hide the smiles on their faces.  
  
They both failed as they burst into laughter, not even trying to stop themselves.  
  
“Okay, you know,” Rick said as he managed to get a bit serious.  “’S not funny.  When a guy is six feet four and he’s telling you he wants to make you his _love_ bunny, and you’re trying to conduct a serious interrogation, especially in front of your superiors, and the giant is looking at you all love struck…okay,” Rick said as he looked thoughtful for a moment, “’s a little funny.”  
  
Both men laughed once more before Rick noticed the box Daryl had walked in with.  
  
“What you got there?” Rick asked, as he calmed himself down.  
  
“Got this for you,” Daryl said, as he handed over the mid-sized box.    
  
Rick opened the package and saw the shiny dome inside.  “Daryl!  You shouldn’t have.”  
  
“Figured you wouldn’t wanna wear Merle’s no more.  So’s I got you your own,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
Rick looked at the motorcycle helmet, a shiny, charcoal black thing that looked very expensive.  
  
“So I guess you wanna go on more bike rides?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, it was fun.  ‘Sides, how else we gonna get them bullmosas in the morning,” Daryl smiled.  
  
It was extravagant.  
  
It was considerate.  
  
And it was the kind of thoughtful gift that most people in his life hadn’t really thought to give Rick.  
  
Not the helmet per se, but something that let him know in no uncertain terms, that they wanted to spend more time with him, so they got Rick something that would help them do exactly _that_.  
  
“Well thank you,” Rick smiled.  
  
“I’d say le’s try it out now but we got that party to go to,” Daryl said morosely.  
  
“Think we can squeeze jus’ a little one in?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said excitedly.  “Why not!”  
  
And just as they were about to leave the apartment, there was a knock on the door.  
  
“Who could that be?” Rick asked.  
  
“Dunno,” Daryl shrugged as he followed Rick to the door.  
  
“Hey guys!” Gareth said as he waved anxiously when the door was opened.  
  
“Gareth,” Rick and Daryl said in unison.  
  
“So um…you know how I had to leave all the details to my idiot brother and his idiot best friend,” Gareth said as he scratched the back of his head nervously.  “Yeah well, they decided to go old school, so they...rented a cake.”  
  
“They _rented_ a cake?” Rick asked, wondering how one would go about renting a cake.  
  
Wasn’t the purpose of getting a cake, eating it?  
  
“Yeah, you know,” Gareth said, the young man obviously trying very hard not to explode about something his _idiot_ brother and _idiot_ best friend had done, a nervous tick starting in the corner of his eye.  “Cake about this high,” he said as he indicated the top of his head, “and this big around,” he said as he put his arms out to the side.  “The kinda cake a naked girl pops out of and says ‘howdy boys!’”  
  
Well, that explained the rental of the cake.  
  
“We can’t have the party at Tyreese’s at this point,” Gareth continued.  “Cake won’t fit through the door.”  
  
“Dumb and dumber didn’t think ‘bout how big the door was?” Daryl scoffed.  
  
“Yeah,” Gareth said, scoffing as well.  “I guess we can have the party on the roof.  The girls’ could move the stage and pole to Tyreese’s.”  
  
“That’ll work,” Daryl shrugged, Rick shrugging in agreement as well.  
  
“Yeah, here’s the _thing_ ,” Gareth said, trying to avoid looking at the men, the tick in his eye getting more pronounced.  " _Where_ to have the party and fitting it through the door is the _least_ of our problems.”  
  
“What’s the other?” Daryl asked.  “Can’t get a girl to jump outta the cake?”  
  
“Oh no, that’s handled,” Gareth said, laughing mockingly.  “You’re gonna love this.  Remember Tara?  Sweet, little Tara?  The guys thought it would be funny if a _real_ lesbian, no shit, they used the word ‘real,’ would jump out of the cake.  Said it would be _ironic_ ,” he finished while rolling his eyes, the eye with the nervous tick doing a somersault.  
  
“Tara,” Rick said, remembering the girl who was fond of fist bumps in the hallway.  “Iffen I recall, didn’t she sorta sleep with Maggie and Glenn…”  
  
“Yeah,” Gareth sighed.  “Isn’t it great?  My brother got Glenn, for his bachelor party, the only one he may ever have in his _whole_ life, a…if you think about it, a woman who he’s already seen naked.  Kinda like recycling, you know?  Keep it green!" he sighed.  
  
“So, she’s gonna pop outta the cake…naked?!” Daryl asked.  
  
“Oh no.  They came up with a great idea,” Gareth said as he shook his head sadly.  “She’s wrapping herself in one long Ace bandage right now, as we speak, over a G-string and some pasties.  Then she’ll _pop_ out of the cake and Glenn’ll _get_ to unwrap her.”  
  
An image of Tara in nothing but a G-string and pasties entered Rick’s mind.  
  
It was a nice image, Tara being a nicely shaped woman, but he wondered how she truly felt about it.

He also wondered if she would ever be able to fist bump people in the hallways after the party with a straight face.  
  
“So if Tara’s still up for it,” Daryl asked, “what’s the problem?”   
  
“So you see,” Gareth chuckled, obviously trying extremely hard to find the funny part in all of this, his explaining getting more and more frantic as he went, that nervous tick starting to go great guns, “the _dunderheads_ and I use that term in the most affectionate way as possible, forgot that the elevator isn’t working in the building.  So not only do we have to get it to the roof, but well, we have to _get it to the roof_ ,” he said as he slumped in defeat.  “This is like mom’s birthday all over again,” Gareth said as he hung his forehead in shame.  
  
“What the hell!” Daryl yelled as he threw his arms up in the air.  “I go for jus’ a little while and Rick gets dressed like a woman and hit on by Merle and some giant asswipe…”  
  
“You did?!” Gareth whispered to Rick, the latter rolling his eyes.  
  
“And,” Daryl continued, “you let those two chuckleheads plan the party…”  
  
“Hey now,” Gareth said, “What could I do?  I was there with you too.  How do you think I feel?!  I was in hell right there with you, hunting and foraging for food…”  
  
“Foraging?!” Daryl scoffed.  “All our meals were catered by Wolfgang _fucking_ Puck!”  
  
“And living in those tents,” Gareth spit out.  
  
“Those tents had fucking A/C and beds that were covered in like, a million thread count bedding,” Daryl shouted back.  “Think one of them guys called it 'glamping,'” Daryl whispered to Rick.  
  
“I should have just stayed.  This is all fucked up!” Gareth said as he threw his hands in the air as well.  
  
“Well, it ain’t completely fucked up,” Daryl said.  “We jus’ gotta get that cake to the roof.”  
  
“'Just get it to the roof,' he says,” Gareth mockingly uttered.  “Come here,” he said as he motioned them forward with an index finger.  
  
All three men exited Rick’s unit and leaned against the railing, looking down into the lobby below.  
  
No doubt about it.  
  
That was probably the _biggest_ cake Rick had ever seen.  
  
“What’s it made out of?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Cardboard.  Paint.  Pixie dust and fairy wings?  I don’t know and I don’t really give a shit,” Gareth barked.  “The thing’s taller than me and wider than all three of us and we gotta get it up the stairs.”  
  
“Well how’d we get stuff up on the roof before?” Rick asked.  
  
“Most of the heavy stuff was put up there when we had a working elevator,” Daryl said.  
  
Rick had to wonder why Dale, who complained the loudest about the amount of stairs he hated climbing, wouldn’t just get the damn thing fixed.

Then again, that would be logical, and the apartment building had a 'no logic' rule apparently.  
  
He looked down at where the cake was sitting, next to Alex and Marty.  “Dude!” Alex called up, waving eagerly.  He then looked over at Gareth, who seemed to be slumped over the railing, looking down at his brother in exasperation.  
  
“I got an idea,” Rick said quietly.  
  
“Yeah, if it involves wrapping Alex up in Ace bandages, stuffing him in the cake and sending it out to sea,” Gareth said, “I’m all ears.”  
  
“Well, maybe after the party, but for now,” Rick said, “you gotta long plank or board or…”  
  
“Or a surfboard?” Gareth asked as he perked up, Daryl also perking up as well.  
  
“You gotta surfboard?” Rick asked, surprise on his face.  
  
“It was Alex’s surfer phase,” Gareth shrugged.  
  
“Dude!  What’s going on?” Alex called out.  
  
“Then again, he hasn’t exactly _left_ his surfer phase,” Gareth sighed.   
  
“Whaddya got in mind?” Daryl asked Rick.  
  
“We can put it on the board and use that as leverage and slide it _up_ the stairs,” Rick said.  “We need some tie-downs or straps or…or bungee cord!”  
  
“Got those too,” Gareth said.  “Alex’s thrill seeking, jumping off a cliff with nothing but a bouncy cord tied to him phase.”  
  
“Duuuuddde!” Alex called up again.  
  
“Unfortunately, the bungee always brought him back,” Gareth sighed.  “You think this oughta work?”  
  
“Theory’s sound,” Daryl nodded.  
  
“Not just a pretty face,” Gareth said as he winked at Rick.  
  
“Go get the damn board and bungee!” Daryl growled.  “Sorry,” Daryl muttered to Rick when Gareth went running down to his apartment.  “Knew I shouldna trust this to just anyone.”  
  
Walking down the stairs alongside Daryl, Rick chuckled as he looked over at his neighbor, “what is it about this place?”  
  
“‘M thinking we’re on some weird force field, like the Bermuda Triangle,” Daryl scoffed.  
  
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Rick snickered.  
  
They reached the lobby just before Gareth came running out of his unit, a surfboard in hand and some bungee cord in the other.  
  
“Gareth, dude,” Alex said soberly, “this isn’t the time to go surfing, man.  We gotta like, _focus_ on this cake dude and like, there’s no waves right now anyway.”  
  
The tick came back full force in the corner of Gareth’s eye.  
  
Rick was wondering how he was even _seeing_ out of the thing right now.  
  
Gareth laid the surfboard on the first set of risers on the staircase.  “We’re gonna lift the cake and secure it to the top of the board with the bungee.  Then we’ll slide it up the staircase.”  
  
“Awesome dude!”  Alex exclaimed.  “Sick!  Hang ten dude!”  
  
“Just…don’t talk right now Alex,” Gareth growled.  “Or, _ever_ actually.”  
  
“Guess we’re gonna hang ten up the stairs,” Marty mumbled.  “Yeah, awesome.”  
  
All five men lifted the cake up and placed it on the surfboard, which was upside-down because of the fins, each person securing an end with a cord.  They then started to slide it up the risers.  
  
“It’s actually working,” Gareth smiled as the men continued up the long, winding staircase, each man adjusting the cords when need be.  
  
“Isn’t this gonna, like, fuck up the board dude?” Alex asked.  
  
“Yeah, but you see any waves, _dude_!” Daryl snarked back.  
  
They continued to slide the cake upstairs.  
  
“This is awesome dude!” Alex said as they made it to the third floor.  
  
“Yeah awesome,” Gareth huffed, Rick and Daryl huffing as well, Marty looking on indifferently as usual.  
  
“I say,” Rick said as he breathed heavily, “when we get to the roof,” he took a deep breath, “we go with Gareth’s idea and stuff Alex," huffing yet again, "in the fucking cake and send it out to sea.”  
  
“Can’t we,” Daryl huffed, “just push it over the building?”  
  
“That’ll work too,” Gareth huffed.  
  
All five men stopped when Glenn came barreling down the staircase, followed closely by Abraham.  
  
“Holy shit!” Glenn exclaimed.  “Abe!  We need to help the guys!”  
  
“This is the _damnedest_ thing I’ve ever seen,” Abraham grunted.  “And I’ve seen a lot of shit.”  
  
“’S jus’ a six foot tall cake on a surfboard,” Daryl said as he tried to get his breathing back to normal.  
  
“This is the strangest bachelor party ever,” Glenn said as he shook his head, grabbing one end of the board while Abraham grabbed another.  
  
“Yeah,” Abraham chuckled, “Tyreese bought a cake for the party.  You know, one we can actually _eat_.”  
  
“He got confused,” Glenn shrugged.  “He got me a Bat Mitzvah cake.  Apparently I’m a Korean, twelve year old Jewish girl.”  
  
“Mazel tov,” Gareth huffed, then chuckled, the other men joining in.  
  
“Yeah, well, that ain’t all,” Abraham grumbled.  “He was supposed to get the booze too.”  
  
“I’m afraid to ask,” Daryl said.  
  
“He got confused again,” Glenn sighed.    
  
“Thought he was buying _liquid refreshments_ for Lizzie’s school functions. We got gallons of Hawaiian punch upstairs right now.”  
  
“God, I hated that stuff even when I was a kid,” Rick chuckled.  
  
Glenn continued laughing as they pushed the cake up the stairs.  “Do I even wanna know who’ll come bouncing out of this?”  
  
“Tara,” Gareth answered.  
  
“Dude!  Way to blow the surprise!” Alex whined.  
  
“Well, Maggie shouldn’t be too upset by that,” he shrugged.  “We’ve both seen her naked.”  
  
The men pushed the cake on one side while the men on the other side pulled.  They were almost to the fifth floor when Alex, Marty and Glenn lost their grip and the cake went careening down the staircase, following the natural path.  
  
All the men watched in horror as they ran down the stairs, trying to catch the runaway cake.  
  
Dale was walking up the stairs at that exact moment, “hey, guys, I heard a lot of noise and I was…”  
  
He looked up in time to see the cake coming toward him, the damn thing knocking him over while it continued its rapid descent.  
  
“Dale!  Are you okay?” Rick and Daryl asked as they picked the man up.  
  
“I don’t know.  Was I just run over by a six foot tall cake?” Dale asked, a dazed look on his face.  
  
“Um, yeah,” Rick said.  
  
“Oh good,” Dale sighed.  “For a minute I thought I was suffering from sixties flashbacks.”   
  
Rick, Daryl and Dale followed quickly behind the other men who were trying to catch up with the cake, it finally making its way down to the bottom steps, where the bungees snapped and the cake, propelled by the forward motion, shot off the board and rolled into the lobby.  
  
“It’s okay,” Gareth yelled.  “Only one of the lobby doors is open.”  
  
Just then the governor walked into the building.  
  
Noticing the oncoming cake, he stepped aside and held the other door open for it, which rolled out onto the sidewalk.  
  
“Why’d you hold the door open?!” Gareth shouted at the man.  
  
“It looked like it wanted to go outside,” the governor shrugged.  “You’re welcome.”  
  
They all ran out onto the sidewalk, including the governor and Tara, who happened to be wrapped from the top of her breasts to just mid-thigh in one long Ace bandage.  
  
They watched as the cake rolled into the street, every car swerving around the damn thing until an ice-cream truck stopped abruptly in front of it, just barely missing hitting it.  
  
“Oh thank God,” Gareth sighed.  
  
And then, because they really _did_ seem to live somewhere over the Bermuda Triangle, the ice cream cone on top of the truck slowly, very slowly in fact, tipped over and impaled itself into the top of the cake.  
  
“Of course,” Gareth sobbed pitifully.  
  
“What the hell?” Tara exclaimed.  
  
“Dude!” Alex smiled, just now noticing Tara and her wrapping job.  “That is fuckin’ _sweet_!”  
  
“Yeah, sweet,” Tara droned.  “What the hell?!  I am _not_ getting in there now!” she said as she pointed to the cake.  
  
They all watched as the driver of the truck came running out, looking at his ice cream cone statue as it seemed to be poking out of the top of the cake.  “Look what your cake did to my cone!” the man yelled as he started to scream profanities, climbing on top of his truck to get to the disaster.  “They’re gonna take this outta my pay!”  
  
“Yeah, well, look at what your cone did to _our_ cake!” Merle yelled back.  
  
Merle?  
  
“Where the hell you been?” Daryl shouted at Merle.  “We coulda used you!”  
  
“I was watching _Oprah_.  Here now though,” Merle grumbled. He looked over at Rick and smiled, “hi Rick.”  
  
Rick rolled his eyes.  
  
Ever since that night, Merle wouldn’t stop fucking with him, mock-flirting with him every chance he got.  
  
“Merle!  Leave Rick alone and go help with gettin' that cone outta that damn cake!” Daryl yelled.  
  
Daryl, Rick, Tara, Glenn and Abraham watched as the rest tried to pull the cone out of the top of the cake, it lodged in there quite solidly.  
  
“Why does this shit always happen to us?” Glenn moaned as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.  
  
“Does it look like...?” Abraham started.  
  
Rick watched as they managed to get the cone _almost_ out, just for it to plunge back in.  They kept pulling it out again, getting it caught, then pushing it back in.    
  
In.  Out.  In.  Out.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Tara drawled.  “The cone is _fucking_ the cake.”  
  
“Well, guess we got our dirty movie,” Abraham chuckled as he bumped his elbow into Glenn.  
  
“Dude!  It’s really stuck!” Alex shouted out, who happened to be on top of the cake.  
  
“God I hope this isn’t some fucked up warning of things to come,” Glenn sighed.  
  
“Maybe if we used some kind of lube or something!” Merle called out as he continued to yank the cone.  
  
“Oh God,” Glenn moaned again, covering his face.  
  
“This is so fucked up,” Daryl said as he shook his head, before starting to laugh.  
  
“Yeah, ’s _fucked_ up all right,” Rick said as he too started laughing.  
  
“It’s not funny,” Glenn said as he slowly burst into laughter as well, Abraham and Tara joining in as well.  
  
As they continued laughing at the scene before them, Tara took a step back, almost crashing into a cyclist on the sidewalk.  
  
“Hey!” Tara called out.  “Guys!  I’m stuck!”  
  
All four men turned around to watch as Tara’s bandage, which had got caught on the bike’s wheel spokes, started to unravel, the startled girl spinning around as it unwound around her.  
  
“Guys!” she screamed.  
  
“Get some scissors!” Rick yelled out.  
  
“Get a blanket!” Abraham shouted out.  
  
Before they could do any more, the last of the bandage came off and Tara stood on the sidewalk, clad in nothing but a G-string and some perfectly placed pasties.  
  
She tried hard to cover herself but ended up not being able to do anything.  
  
Giving up she stood tall in all her naked glory on the side walk.  
  
Tara threw her hands in the air and started yelling.  “Yeah!  That’s right.  I’m a stripper!  This is a what a stripper looks like in the harsh light of day!” she screamed out at all passersby.  “Take a good long look!  I’m speaking for all strippers when I say we no longer wanna hide in dark hell holes!!!!”  
  
“Dude this place is _awesome_!” one skateboarder said to another as they stood on the sidewalk, watching Tara as she screamed at the top of her lungs.  
  
“Dude!  You got ice cream cake porn in the street and naked protesting strippers.  And there’s the penguin guy!” the other skateboarder said as they pointed to Rick.  
  
“Can you pose with the stripper over by the cake, sir?” one of the boys asked.  
  
“Get the fuck outta here,” Rick groused.  “Wait,” he said as he stopped the taller of the two, yanking the plaid shirt tied around the boy’s waist off.  “I’m a cop and I’m commandeering this here shirt.”  
  
“Penguin guy’s always in a bad mood,” the shorter one said to the other.  Both boys continued on their way down the sidewalk.  
  
“Thank you Rick,” Tara pouted, as he pulled the shirt around her, buttoning it up, her hand peeking out of one very long sleeve and fist bumping Rick.  
  
Rick returned the gesture, making sure the bottom of the shirt covered Tara’s ample bottom, which thankfully, it did.  
  
“Dudes!” Alex yelled out as he held up the now unstuck cone in the air triumphantly. “It took a while, but it finally came!”  
  
“Came _out_!  Came _out_!” Gareth yelled.  
  
“You’re the dude!” Abraham shouted at Alex, giving him the thumbs up.  
  
They watched as Gareth and Merle rolled the cake back onto the sidewalk and into the lobby.  
  
“Well, I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not hauling that thing back onto the roof!” Gareth said.  
  
“And I’m _not_ jumping out of it,” Tara continued pouting as she snuggled up to Rick.  
  
“It’s okay guys,” Glenn said a bit dejectedly.  “I mean, I got a Bat Mitzvah cake, no booze, no cake with a stripper in it.  The party’s pretty much trashed,” he said as he threw his hands into the air.  “We can always crash Maggie’s party.  Michonne took care of the booze, so they’ve got that.  And yeah, they may be male strippers, but it’s something…”  
  
Glenn stopped when he noticed Marty and Alex both looking guilty.  
  
“We were the ones to take care of the strippers,” Marty said, as he continued to look on contritely.  
  
“What did you do?” Gareth hissed, as he turned a death glare on the two men.  
  
The eye twitch was back.  
  
“Well, we ordered the strippers,” Marty nodded.  “For _Friday_.”  
  
“Yeah, for Friday,” Alex said.  
  
“Well, _this_ is Friday,” Glenn said.  
  
“Yeah, but _next_ Friday,” Marty said quietly.  “Come Friday, this time next week, some male strippers should be showing up.”  
  
“Alex!!!!” Gareth yelled.  “You did the same thing at mom’s birthday!”  
  
“Don’t bring mom into this dude!” Alex said.  
  
“Seriously,” Glenn winced.  “Dude, Maggie was really looking forward to that.”  
  
“Sorry, we just got the dates confused,” Marty shrugged.  
  
“Well, how did she take the news when you told her?” Glenn asked.  
  
“Um,” both boys said in unison.  
  
“You haven’t told her, have you?” Gareth said.  
  
“Dude,” Alex said quietly, “Maggie scares us.”  
  
“Tell me about it,” Glenn huffed.  “Come on, let’s go to the roof and break the news.”  
  
The large group of men, and Tara, were quickly joined by the rest of the men in the building, including Joe and Tyreese, as they trudged up the stairs.  The governor and Dale were there as well.  
  
Stepping onto the roof, everyone was taken aback at how beautiful the place look, with twinkling lights strewn everywhere, flower arrangements scattered about and loud, upbeat music coming out of the sound system.  
  
All the ladies seemed to be there.  Michonne, Andrea and Sasha were laughing about something in one area.  Maggie was huddled together with Carol, Rick wincing when he took note of the latter.  Amy, Beth and Rosita were talking animatedly in front of the stage.  
  
“Hey guys!” Maggie beamed as she saw all the men, and Tara, make their way over to the stage.  “What's up?”  
  
“Babe,” Glenn said as he wrapped his arms around Maggie.  “About the strippers…”  
  
Everyone watched as Maggie’s face, which had been happy and glowing, her smile rivaling that of the many lights, turn apprehensive and worried.  
  
And disappointed.  
  
It was like the gophers in the barn all over again.  
  
“Oh fuck this!” Gareth said as he walked up to the makeshift stage, an eightie's girl band with a thumping beat playing in the background.  “You want male strippers?  Well, you got it.”  
  
And just like that, Gareth started dancing in time to the music, swaying his hips and his shoulders, as he played with the hem of his tee-shirt.  
  
All the women started looking at each in confusion before they too started to sway to the music, their faces turning from baffled and chagrined to pleased and downright _delighted_.  
  
Gareth lifted the shirt up and off, twirling the garment over his head before letting it go flying over the crowd of women, who were all now getting into the swing of things, hooting and hollering, ‘take it off!’  
  
Even some of the men were stomping their feet to the beat, clapping their hands and laughing.  
  
Then he unbuttoned his jeans, all the girls screaming even louder, before he pushed them off his thighs and down his legs, kicking them across the stage, Amy grabbing hold of the pants and holding them to her chest tightly.  
  
“Come on Glenn!” Gareth shouted to the groom-to-be.    
  
Glenn started to shake his head in the negative, before Maggie and Sasha pushed him up onto the stage.  He stood there, bending his knees in time to the beat, before he loosened up some more and completely immersed himself into the music.  He did the same as Gareth, playing with the hem of his shirt before he pulled it up and over him, throwing it to Maggie seductively.  “This is for you baby!” he called out lewdly.  
  
“Oh look,” Maggie droned, “he’s already giving me his laundry to do,” she laughed.  
  
The young man then took off his jeans in the same manner as Gareth, both men now dancing on stage in nothing but their underwear, Gareth wearing a pair of boxers that looked like a big postage stamp, the words LICK THIS emblazoned over the crotch area, while Carol put a ten dollar bill inside the front of them, everyone catcalling as she did so.  
  
This gave the rest of the ladies ideas and they too started to take out their spare bills.  
  
Merle jumped on stage, ready to start taking his clothes off, when Michonne called out loudly, “I will give you this fifty dollar bill if you keep your clothes _on_.”  
  
Sulking, Merle walked off the stage, grabbing the fifty as he passed Michonne.  
  
The next person to land on the stage was Abraham, who strutted all over the thing as if he were born to it.  Only he hadn't merely taken off his shirt.  He ripped his shirt in two, baring his chest magnificently, all the women going crazy now.  
  
As he stripped off his cargo pants and was now down to a skimpy pair of underwear, Daryl leaned over to Rick and said, “You only live once.  Let’s do this!”  
  
“Daryl?” Rick sputtered.  
  
Daryl jumped on the stage then, dancing, following the beat of the music, before he started teasing the audience by exposing one side of his vest, then the other, before he took it completely off.  
  
Rick was clapping in time with the music, laughing as his neighbor put on the best show so far, driving the women into a frenzy.  Once he had his jeans off, women were putting all their money into the waistband of his briefs.  
  
“Rick!” Daryl called out.  
  
While the music was still going and everyone was clapping and stomping, he heard the catcalls and shouts, “Come on Rick!” and “Get on up there!”  
  
Well, it certainly wouldn’t be the _craziest_ thing he had done all week.  
  
Throwing all caution to the wind, Rick ran up onto the stage, the beginnings of Madonna’s “Beautiful Stranger” starting.  
  
Strutting in time with the music, Rick moved his hips forward, as if someone were pulling them invisibly.  He then moved his shoulders as well.  Taking a page out of Daryl’s book, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, teasing the women down below.  
  
He could see Beth holding her fists to her chest, yelling “take it off!’ the loudest while Michonne was smiling at him rather lewdly.  
  
Even Tara, sweet Tara, was jumping up and down, whistling and hooting.  
  
The last of the buttons undone, Rick ripped the shirt off his chest and twirled it above his head, just as Gareth had done before, slinging it into the crowd of women, Beth reaching up and grabbing it out of the air.  
  
That was probably the last time he would ever see that shirt as Beth was clutching it for dear life.  
  
Pity.  
  
He really liked that shirt.  
  
Unzipping his jeans, he slowly lowered them to the ground, kicking them off just as everyone else had, Michonne lunging for the pair of pants, practically knocking Beth over in her haste to do so.  
  
And there he stood, on the stage, in nothing but his underwear, along with four other guys, all of them dancing together.  
  
“Didn’t you once say something ‘bout pole dancing?” Daryl leaned over and shouted at him.  
  
Rick grabbed the pole and started dancing around it, then started humping the thing, the crowd going even more wild, Michonne, Andrea and Beth putting money in his underwear, Sasha and Amy doing the same to Daryl.  
  
Rick abandoned the pole to bump and grind with Daryl and Gareth, while Abraham and Glenn danced on their own.  At one point, Rick had his back to Daryl's back and they shook in time to the music.  
  
“Full monty!” someone chanted.  
  
“Philip!” Dale reprimanded.  
  
“Shake that ass!” Merle shouted, winking at Rick, Daryl giving his brother a death glare.  
  
And so it went, them dancing, Daryl and him mostly grinding together, all the women in the building putting money in their underwear, everybody having a good time as they hollered and whistled and laughed and catcalled and moved in time with the music themselves.  
  
That is, until he could hear a tiny voice above all the noise.  
  
“Dad?”  
  
The music suddenly stopped as everyone looked directly at the new group that had just appeared on the roof.  
  
He knew that voice.  
  
Rick, completely naked except for a pair of silk underwear, the waistband stuffed with bills of all denominations, turned around and was met with the sight of his son, Carl, who had a thoroughly befuddled look on his face, his ex-wife Lori, who looked about ready to explode, Shane, who looked equal parts amused and jealous, and little Judith, in her mother’s arms.  
  
She seemed to be the only one of them happy to see him with her large, beaming smile.  
  
That or she had gas.  
  
“Rick?  What..why?!” Lori stuttered.  
  
Rick wondered where a six foot tall cake running him over was when he needed one.  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have Carl!!! Yay!
> 
> And yes, I did go there, with the cake and ice cream.
> 
> If you liked, let me know. If you think I need medication, let me know that too...


	17. Operation Plucked Chicken is not a Milton Bradley game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, I know. My apologies.
> 
> Anywho, here is the much anticipated aftermath of Rick stripping and being discovered by his family, and Shane.
> 
> Also, I keep to the humor here, but there is a little angst and ugly truths that will be rearing their ugly heads.
> 
> Also, I apologize if this seems like Lori-bashing. It actually isn't. Just divorces aren't fun and can leave hurt feelings all around.
> 
> But we still have crazy fun times ahead. :)
> 
> BTW, Carl is 13 in this story.

  
  
  
It was now, as he was standing there in front of his family, his ex-wife and his former best friend, his son and his baby daughter, caught in a thoroughly compromising position, that Rick recalled _another_ time, when he was younger, when he and Shane had rented a small apartment together during their days in the sheriff’s academy.  
  
He would have laughed to himself at the absurdity of it.    
  
It had been a simple thing, really.  
  
If one of them was ‘entertaining’ someone for the night, (which translated to almost every night for Shane, about once every two to three months for Rick, God willing), then they would turn the welcome mat upside down that lay just outside the door.  
  
Rick had seen that mat turned over more times then he could count.  
  
But there had been one night, when the stars had aligned and Mercury was in retrograde or some shit, that he had managed to be in a position where _he_ got to turn that accursed mat over.  
  
Her name had been Daly, a red head with the most amazing, the most perfect body, who worked at the local Taco Bell.  
  
Had it been up to Rick, they would have never gotten together, but it was the girl herself who had initiated contact.  
  
So imagine how excited Rick had been when he brought her back to their apartment, gotten her completely undressed, and seriously, not a more perfect body had there ever been, and he himself had stripped down to nothing more than a pair of Hanes, when Shane entered the unit, accompanied by some classmates from the academy, each holding a case of Genuine Miller Draft beer.  
  
“Look Rick!  We’re gonna par- _tay_!” Shane started as he shook his hips, then stopped abruptly when he noticed the fully unclothed Daly and an almost naked Rick on the bed.  “The mat was turned over, wasn’t it?” he had asked, completely gobsmacked.  
  
“Yeah, that’s why you couldn’t see the word WELCOME on it, dumbshit,” Rick droned.  
  
Daly had become three shades of red, seriously competing with the hair on her head (and other places, everyone in the room testifying to that later), as she screamed profanities at the bunch of them, all the while quickly gathering her scattered clothing on the floor.    
  
“Aww!  Come back!” Shane had yelled after the retreating woman.  “It ain’t nothing we never seen before!”  
  
Rick would have been hard pressed to agree with that, thinking about the stunning naked Daly, with her perfect skin and her beautiful curves, if it were not for the fact that he, as well, stood there, humiliated beyond belief in a compromising position.  
  
But once the beer had started running freely and Daly had hooked up with Shane a mere week later, it had all been forgotten.  
  
In fact, when it had been remembered, it was recalled more fondly and it would be one of those times he and Shane would laugh about, much later in life.  
  
However, _this_ was not one of those times.  
  
Not even close.  
  
Rick suspected that this would never be forgotten and when brought up, it would not be remembered as something they would laugh about, but that would only conjure memories of indignity and shame.  
  
For there stood Rick, clad only in his new underwear, his new _silk_ underwear (and God he hoped Lori wouldn’t notice), the garment’s band stuffed with money.  
  
“Rick!” Lori sputtered, her head whipping around as she took in the scene.  “What…what…you…why…you…no.  _No_!” she exclaimed, the last ‘No’ said obstinately.  
  
Rick was pretty sure Lori thought she was composing complete sentences as her thoughts were no doubt coming at her quicker than the speed of light.  
  
“Seriously, does this woman know how to put words together in a complete sentence?” Gareth said as he stood there, his hands resting on his hips, attired only in those offensive boxer shorts.  
  
“You…you,” Lori stuttered as she pointed accusingly at Gareth.  “You…”  
  
“You…have great taste in boxers?” Gareth said condescendingly to his ex-wife as he pointed to his boxers.  “You…have great abs.  What?  Help me out here.  We need more words, verbs, nouns.  Dictionaries are your friends,” he said as he nodded his head at her mockingly.  
  
“Gareth,” Rick sighed, as the young man got the hint, holding his hands up in surrender and stepping away.  
  
“Dad?” Carl said again.  
  
Rick wondered what would happen if he closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, would he find out it was all only a dream?  A horrible, _nasty_ dream?  
  
Stepping up hesitantly to his son, Rick bent down a fraction to get eye level with the boy, Carl having shot up in height since the few weeks he had seen him last, “hey buddy,” he said, trying for _reassuring_ , but figuring he was somewhere between twitchy and downright scary.    
  
Just then, all the women descended down upon Lori, who happened to be holding Judith.  
  
“Look at those chubby cheeks!” Sasha cooed as she stole the baby right out of her mother’s arms.  “I just wanna pinch them.”  
  
“I’m gonna get those feet,” Michonne giggled as she grabbed Judith’s foot and started blowing raspberries on it.  
  
“She’s going to look so _cute_ in that dress we bought her,” Andrea tittered, Amy nodding happily as she too played with the baby.  
  
“God, I _love_ that smell,” Rosita gushed as she inhaled the top of the baby’s head.  
  
“You hear that?” Joe said into the crowd of men watching.  “That gentlemen, is the unmistakable sound of ovaries exploding everywhere.”  
  
“Now Rosita’s gonna hound me about starting a family again,” Abraham grunted.  
  
“Where are those _harpies_ going with my baby?” Lori shrilled as she watched the group of women passing the baby around.  
  
“Relax,” Gareth said as he pulled his shirt over his head.  “She’s a baby.  She’s cute.  They’re drooling over her.  They’re not witches who’re gonna put her in a pot, cook and eat her for fucks sake lady!”  
  
Oh, that should put Lori’s overly taxed mind at ease.  
  
“Who is this offensive, half-naked man that keeps speaking to me so rudely Rick?” Lori barked as she pointed at Gareth, who made some lewd motions with his tongue at his former wife.  
  
“Gareth,” Rick sighed again.  “Just…stop trying to help.”  
  
“Got it,” the young man said as he stepped away again.  
  
Just then, Shane stepped forward and pointed at Rick’s lower half.  “According to the courts, half of what’s in there belongs to Lori.”  
  
Rick looked down at the bills sticking out of his briefs.  
  
“Pfft!” Rick scowled as he hoisted the garment farther up his hips.  “It used to be _everything_ that was inside here was Lori’s ’til you came along.”  
  
“Now hold on brother,” Shane started, stepping into Rick’s space.  
  
“So we got a strip show and now a fight,” Philip said with a smile.  “This night keeps getting better and better.”  
  
“I said don’t call me that,” Rick said angrily as he advanced on Shane, Daryl pulling him back with an arm across his chest.  
  
When did Daryl get behind him?  
  
Strangely, Rick found he was grateful for his neighbor’s presence.  
  
Rick would have thrown the first punch by now, and where would that have gotten them?  
  
“Don’t bring Shane into this again!” Lori yelled as she stepped forward.  
  
“You keep saying that!” Rick screamed at Lori as he advanced on her instead, Daryl letting go of him.  “You know what?!  You’re right.  Cause everything that happened was my fault.  It was _all my fault_!” Rick yelled at Lori, half naked, as he started throwing bills out of his underwear.  “Pants!” Rick boomed as he snapped his fingers, Michonne running up to him quickly as she handed him his jeans, Rick unceremoniously stepping into them and buttoning them up.    
  
His attention never wavered from Lori’s.  
  
“I was never good enough.  I wasn’t _upset_ enough with you!  I wasn’t _angry_ enough with you.  I was never _attentive_ enough for you!” Rick yelled.    
  
He was on a roll.  
  
Rick was pretty sure he had never spoken to Lori like this before.  
  
“It was all me, Lori.  Okay?  It was all _me_ ,” Rick said as he placed his hand on his heart.  “I get that.  I was the terrible, awful piece of shit in the marriage.  I get that.  Because I didn’t tell you what a grasping, selfish, conniving, petty _bitch_ you were!  That what you wanna hear?  It’s all on me!” he ended with a yell.  
  
“Shut up!  Shut up Rick!  It wasn’t you.  It was _me_!” Lori said as she spit out the words, her eyes big and round, her body trembling visibly the more upset she became, the veins in her neck becoming more pronounced, her voice getting hoarse the longer and higher she screamed back at Rick.  “It was me.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  You were supposed to move out but be close by.  You would never be like Shane so I had _him_.  And Shane would never be you but I could still have _you_!  And I had the kids.  I would finally have it all.  It would be different but the same only I would be the one.  I would _still_ be the one calling the shots!” Lori said savagely as she pointed to herself.  “But you went and moved away…to this…this God forsaken place.  You were supposed to live in a small crappy apartment, thinking about me and the kids, regretting your choices for thinking _you_ were the one who threw it all away.  You were supposed to be alone…and…and not happy, like you are now…and not having fun, like you just were, dancing and…and you wouldn’t be getting on with your life…like you are…because then I would really lose… _you_ ,” she said, whispering the last word while she put her hand to her mouth.  “Oh God.  I can’t believe I said…I need to shut up now,” Lori said as she quieted down, the color in her face starting to drain away.  
  
Everyone stood and watched as Lori put a hand out, trying to take in big gulps of air.  
  
And there it was.  
  
The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  
  
So help her God.  
  
Maybe he should have called Lori a bitch a long time ago.  
  
Rick had seen her get upset before and accuse him of terrible, awful things, but this had been the first time that she had admitted it was all on _her_.  
  
And then he remembered they had an audience.  
  
“That’s just sad,” Andrea said with a pout on her face, Gareth in the background mouthing the word ‘crazy.’  
  
“Poor thing,” Carol said with a tilt of her head.  “Did she forget to take her medication today?”  
  
“That’s messed up,” Abraham said.  “That is the most messed up shit I have _ever_ seen, and I’ve seen a lot of messed up shit.”  
  
Rick wondered, since Abraham kept bringing it up, exactly how fucked up the shit he’d seen really _was_.  
  
“Lori?” Rick warily called out to the trembling woman, the woman he had to remind himself was still the mother of his children.  “You okay?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lori said quietly.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it…I mean, I did, but…”  
  
“You meant it Lori,” Rick said, nodding his head sagely.  “But that’s okay,” he chuckled. “It just means you’re fucked up like the rest of us.”  
  
“I know it’s too late for us,” Lori said, “but maybe someday, you’ll… _forgive_ me?”  
  
He would.  
  
Forgive her, that is.  
  
But not today.  
  
He upended his entire life, lost his best friend, and had to resort to the courts to be able to see his children a measly once a week.  
  
Forgiveness would be sometime down the road.  
  
But at least he understood better now.  
  
It hadn’t been him.  
  
It had been _her_.  
  
He felt a great weight lift off his shoulders.  
  
He also felt the sting of the cold on his bare skin, which reminded him…  
  
Rick stood tall and proud as he snapped his fingers in the air.  “Shirt!”  
  
Unlike the first time, when Michonne had come running with his pants, nothing happened.  
  
Which completely stole his thunder and ruined the moment, Rick noticing Daryl behind him quietly snickering.  
  
Rick put his hands on his hips and shouted again, “Shirt!?”  
  
Well, it was more of a whine than a shout that time.  
  
“Aww, come on.  Who’s got my shirt?” Rick whined.  
  
Rick turned around when Daryl tapped him on the shoulder, pointing just to the right of him, “Um, Rick.”  
  
Well, of course.  
  
For there stood both Maggie and Beth, in a seeming battle of tug of war with his shirt (and he really did like that one).  “No!  I caught it.  It’s mine!” Beth argued.  
  
“Bethy!  Let go of the man’s shirt!” Maggie admonished.  
  
“But it smells like him,” Beth pouted.  
  
Everyone watched as Daryl walked up to Beth, whispered something in her ear and walked away with Rick’s shirt, his neighbor handing him the garment.  
  
“What’d you say?” Rick asked Daryl under his breath.  
  
“I promised her some of your dirty laundry,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“A little young for you, ain’t she?” Shane snickered.  
  
“She probably still has teddy bears all over her bed,” Lori huffed, the color starting to come back into her face.  
  
Rick winced when he thought about what Beth _did_ with the teddy bears scattered on her bed.  
  
But this was not what Rick wanted to do at the time.  
  
He didn’t want to get into it with Shane.  
  
And he didn’t want to cater to Lori’s meltdown either.  
  
He just wanted to talk to Carl, who seemed to be missing at the moment.  
  
“You looking for your kid?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Carl?  Yeah,” Rick nodded.  
  
God, he hoped Carl hadn’t run off, sickened at his parent’s blowup.  
  
“I had Merle take him down to my apartment when the girls took off with Judith.  Told him he could play Road Rage with him,” Daryl shrugged.  “That’s okay, right?”  
  
He could have kissed Daryl right then.  
  
But he was pretty sure Daryl wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.  
  
“Yeah!” Rick said, sounding extremely relieved.  “He doesn’t need to see his mom and dad…wait.  Road Rage?”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl smiled.  “Bought that backward’s compatible PS3.”  
  
There was a fleeting moment, right then, where Rick felt immensely flattered by the fact that Daryl said he would go out and buy one when he remembered that he might have bought the stupid thing for his brother.  
  
Still, Daryl never did cease to amaze him.  
  
“Thank you,” Rick smiled at Daryl.  “For getting Carl away.”  
  
“He shouldna had to see that shit.  Don’t blame you though,” Daryl muttered.  “All that shit needed to be said.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick chuckled.  “Just wish it hadn’t been done in front of everyone.”  
  
“You think these _asses’ll_ remember any of this?” Daryl scoffed.  “‘Sides, you’ve met ‘em all.”  
  
“I need to go talk to Carl,” Rick said.  
  
Just as Daryl was about to take Rick down to his apartment, Lori and Shane stopped Rick.  
  
“We need to talk Rick,” Lori said.  
  
“Look, we will.  I just wanna talk to my son right now,” Rick said as he tilted his head intently.  
  
“Uh oh, it’s the head tilt,” Marty said gravely.  
  
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Lori started.  
  
“No!” Rick said.  “I’ve had a weird week so I don’t wanna get into it with you right now.”  
  
Lori scoffed, “well you certainly don’t look the worse for wear.  You look, well,” she said contemplatively as she circled around him, “really good.  I know you shaved but…did you go to a spa or something…”  
  
“Oh God,” Rick moaned.  “I sorta…woke up this way.”  
  
“You woke up fully _groomed_?” Lori asked in bewilderment.  
  
“Yeah, something like that,” Rick said.  
  
Not now.  
  
Please not now.  
  
“Sorta like the tooth fairy.  Only a grooming fairy,” Shane snickered.  
  
“Well you could sure use a visit,” Daryl sneered.  
  
Shane was about to advance on Daryl but Lori intervened.  “You woke up like…?  _What?!?_ ”  
  
“It was cause I saved this little girl from this penguin who was trying to make her his mate so…and I really don’t wanna go into that Lori,” Rick sighed yet again.  “You know I’m a meme now?”  
  
“This is crazy talk Rick,” Lori said as she shook her head.  “And what happened to your eye?”  
  
“I got this at work,” Rick stated candidly, forgetting this was probably not an event he would want to finish relating with his former wife and best friend.  “‘Cause I had to dress up like a hooker on this stakeout and the guy we were watching picked me up.  No joke, this guy wanted to make me his _love_ bunny.”  
  
“His _love_ bunny?” Shane repeated.  
  
“’S true,” Daryl chimed in.  “Sick fucker.”  
  
“So you got into a fight with one of your perps?” Shane said.  
  
“No, it was one of the other cops, ‘cause he said,” Rick started.  “Well, never mind what he said.  Just, know it’s work related.”  
  
“Rick,” Lori said, her eyes fixed solely on him.  “This is…this is _insanity_.  What you’re saying is insane.  Perverted penguins and love bunnies and grooming fairies.  You should come home.  Back to Cynthiana.”  
  
“That’s right!  I’ll just come home!” Rick said loudly as he threw his hands up in the air.  
  
Everything became quiet on the rooftop as everyone tuned in, the women stopping their playing and doting with the baby.  Maggie, Beth and Glenn had stopped their conversation and listened attentively as did Dale and the other men.  
  
Rick could hear the sudden intake of breath next to him, Daryl standing closely by his side.  
  
“But I won’t,” Rick stated.  “‘Cause this is my home now.  I like it here, so I’m staying.  Yeah this place is crazy and fucked up, and don’t even get me started on the gophers, but it’s really not that bad.”  
  
Just then, a loud crash could be heard down below in the street.  
  
“God, I hope the cake didn’t get out,” Dale said anxiously.  
  
“I just felt a disturbance in the force,” Gareth said sorrowfully as he took his head in hand.  
  
“Hey!” Philip said as he leaned over the roof’s edge (Rick wondering if he could berate the maniacal man later for his transgression).  “Someone crashed into the back of a Starbuck’s delivery truck.  All the product is spilling out the back.”  
  
“Oh my God!” Gareth screamed as he flailed his arms about.  “It’s an actual coffee emergency!  We have to save the coffee!  Where’s Alex?  _Alex!_ ”  
  
“We’ll get him and send him down,” Dale said calmly.  
  
“Marty!” Gareth yelled.  “As an employee of the Starbuck’s family, you are obligated to help me,” he said as he grabbed his roommate’s hand and whisked him out the rooftop door.  
  
“I don’t even like coffee,” Marty grumbled as he was pulled through the door.  “Just like the tips.”  
  
“Tell me _that’s_ normal,” Lori said, her lips pursed and her hands on her slender hips.  
  
“Actually, it is,” Rick shrugged.  “For here.”  
  
“You missed the cake out in the street before,” Daryl smiled.  “And the show that went with it.”  
  
“Yeah, or Rick dressing me when I threw my naked self at him,” Tara said as she draped herself over one of Rick’s shoulders and ran her foot along his leg suggestively, licking her top lip obscenely.  
  
“Look Lori, just stay up here.  Eat some Bat Mitzvah cake,” Rick said.  
  
“Bat Mitzvah cake?” Lori asked.  
  
“It’s mine,” Glenn said as he walked up and waved.    
  
“You’re Jewish?” Lori said incredulously.  
  
“And female?” Shane said, one eyebrow raised.  
  
“Hey!  Don’t judge,” Glenn pouted and walked away.  
  
Rick made a hasty retreat with Daryl to his apartment before Lori, or anyone else, could stop him.  
  
But of course, it was never that easy.  
  
“Hey.  Should I send someone else down to help Gareth with the coffee emergency,” Dale asked as he made air quotes around the words ‘coffee emergency.’  
  
“Where’s Alex?” Rick asked.  “I haven’t heard like, one ‘dude’ in over an hour.”  
  
“He’s getting the supplies ready for one of our rooftop games,” Dale said.  
  
“We are seriously not gonna play ‘operation plucked chicken’ again, are we?” Daryl moaned.  
  
“Yeah, only without the feathers this time,” Dale nodded.  
  
Rick knew he would live to regret it but he couldn’t help himself.  “Operation plucked chicken?” he sputtered.  
  
“We get this huge vinyl sheet.  ’S like a slip ’n slide, only ‘cause it’s a bunch of grown ass people sliding on it, we get a really large sheet,” Daryl said.  
  
“And then we get this five gallon bucket of KY Jelly,” Dale started.  
  
“Wait,” Rick stopped his landlord.  “That stuff comes in five gallon buckets?”  
  
“Yeah, you know,” Daryl shrugged.  “’S not just used for people’s um… _pleasure_.  It’s used by vets too…and Hershel gets it for us…and I really don’t wanna tell you what he uses a five gallon bucket of lubricating jelly for.”  
  
“I think I get it,” Rick sighed.  “So you guys slide down the ‘slip ’n slide, using the lube.  Okay, why lube?  Why not just run a hose up here?”  
  
“You can’t just run a hose of water up here!  Are you _crazy_?!” Dale exclaimed, completely astounded.    
  
Yes, of course, because grown ass people sliding around in lube was sane but _Rick_ was the crazy one.  
  
“So the plucked chicken,” Rick said as he grimaced.  “Do I even wanna know?”  
  
“We all wear swimsuits, so when we slide down the damn thing, and we’re covered in that slimy shit, there’s a bunch of feathers at the end.  Some of ‘em stick,” Daryl said.    
  
“Looking like a bunch of plucked chickens,” Rick nodded.  “Why no feathers this time around?”  
  
“Michonne and Andrea and all the other ladies vetoed it.  Said it was just too _weird_ ,” Dale said, his eyebrows raising high into his hairline.  
  
But covered head to toe in lubricant _wasn’t?!_  
  
“I need to see Carl,” Rick said to Daryl.  
  
Both men ran down the stairs and into Daryl’s apartment, Rick stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene.  
  
Just like his own unit, Daryl's apartment had exposed brick, only the brick had not been whitewashed.  It adorned the walls in its original reddish hue.  
  
He could see the kitchen above the living area, outfitted with highly polished natural wood cabinetry, stainless steel appliances and a granite countertop.  
  
The living space had a soft looking leather couch and a matching armchair.  
  
It was the kind of apartment Rick would have felt more at home in.  At least more so than his own rather  effeminate one.  
  
“Carl,” Rick said.  
  
Just then his son looked up from playing the game, Merle stopping as well.  “Your old man’s here so guess I better make my way out.”  
  
Merle got up from the couch, Rick grateful to the man for being understanding and wondering where the usually abrasive and crude man was.  
  
“That why your wife left you?” Merle said into Rick’s ear.  “Knew you’d look better in a skirt than she did?”  
  
Rick looked over at the lewd smile and wink Merle was sending his way.  
  
Oh, _there_ he was.  
  
“Shut the fuck up Merle,” Daryl groused.  “ _Come here_.”  
  
Rick sat down next to Carl on the couch, momentarily forgetting about everything going on so he could marvel at just how soft and cozy the seating really was.  
  
“You okay,” Rick winced, “with what happened back there?”  
  
Carl looked straight ahead before responding.  “You mean you yelling at mom in a way I ain’t never…”  
  
“Have,” Rick interrupted.  “ _Have_ never.”  
  
Carl sighed before continuing, “ _Have_ never seen you yell at her before or you and Shane almost coming to blows or you going all Magic Mike and stripping?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said.  
  
“Work with me here Dad,” Carl said, “‘cause I just saw you shaking, well, _everything_ , and I might have to relive that nightmare in my thirties when I’m seeking professional help…”  
  
“I shouldn’t have yelled at your mother like that,” Rick said shamefacedly.  
  
“Yes you should have!” Carl said.  “She needed to hear all that.  It’s what she always wanted or what she always _thought_ she wanted at least,” he shrugged.  
  
“Wait,” Rick said.  “I thought you came down here to play games with Merle before all that went down?”  
  
“I made Merle hang out at the rooftop door.  I needed to hear what shit went down,” Carl said as he rolled his eyes.  
  
“You told him you wanted to stay and he _let_ you?” Rick asked incredulously.  “And hey, language!”  
  
“I just saw you humping a stripper pole, and you’re getting on my case about a dirty word?” Carl snorted.  “And yeah, he let me stay.”  
  
“That doesn’t seem like Merle,” Rick said.  
  
“I paid him,” Carl said.  
  
“Okay, that seems like Merle,” Rick nodded.  “And you saw the pole… _thang_ , huh?”  
  
“Let’s not speak of the pole thing again,” Carl said.  “Like ever.”  
  
“Does mom,” Rick stammered, “does she talk ‘bout me?”  
  
“Like, does she bad mouth you any chance she gets or like, does she miss you?” Carl asked.  
  
“When did you get all astute and shit?!” Rick scoffed.  
  
“Language,” Carl said.   
  
“I’m older,” Rick pouted.  "And more responsible so I can say what I want."  
  
“Says the man who was just taking his clothes off for money,” Carl smirked.  
  
“You’re not gonna let that drop any time soon, are you?” Rick said.  
  
“She doesn’t bad mouth you.  And she does _miss_ you.  But what she said up there?” Carl said as he pointed at the ceiling.  “Was about it.”  
  
“And Shane?” Rick asked as he rubbed the back of his head and looked away.  
  
“You do realize you both have that annoying habit, don’t you?” Carl said.  “Well, Shane does it all the time, but you only do it when you’re talking ‘bout him.”  
  
Rick resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair again.  
  
“Shane misses you,” Carl sighed.  “He misses you a lot.  He always talks ‘bout how he misses you.  Whenever he comes home and something went wrong or somebody said something he thought was stupid, the first thing he always says is, ‘wait ’til I tell your dad ‘bout what happened.’  Then he gets this sad look on his face, rubs his head and walks away.”  
  
“Isn’t he like, trying to be your dad or something?” Rick grimaced.  
  
Carl snickered before responding.  “Yeah right.  He was _always_ like my dad ‘cause you two were always together.  He was there while you were raising me.  If you think he’s trying to take your place, he ain’t.  He can’t take your place since he was always there in it, right next to you!”  
  
“Isn’t,” Rick smirked.  
  
“ _Isn’t_ ,” Cal sighed while rolling his eyes.  “Seriously, you’re correcting my grammar right now?  You had money in your shorts like only fifteen minutes ago.”  
  
“Okay, I gotta idea.  I’ll let you milk this tonight, but tonight _only_.  After that, you can’t bring it up ever again,” Rick said.  
  
“So, if one day, I wreck the family car, I can’t use my Ace in the hole,” Carl smirked.  
  
“Do you plan on wrecking the family car one day?” Rick asked.  
  
“No, but shit happens,” Carl shrugged.  “Whatcha gonna do?”  
  
“I might just not let you drive the family car until you graduate college,” Rick said back, a grin on his face.  
  
“Okay, fine,” Carl huffed.  “How ‘bout I milk it for the whole weekend?”   
  
“Tonight,” Rick said.  
  
“Maybe, just tonight and tomorrow?” Carl asked.  
  
“Tonight,” Rick said again, his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
“I don’t think you understand the finer details of negotiation dad,” Carl said slyly.  “And hey!  Who was the cute blonde?  The one with your shirt,” he smiled.  
  
“She’s too old for you,” Rick chuckled.  
  
“I love cougar women,” Carl snickered.  “Really dad.  You should talk to Shane.  You know, whenever mom has to make some important decision regarding me or Judith, she asks Shane his opinion, but then he always says she should talk to you first, that it's really only up to you.”  
  
Maybe he had misjudged Shane.  
  
Then again, it was hard for him to be impartial when he had come home from work that one fateful day, Shane bent over Lori at the kitchen sink, his cock buried deep inside her, all the while her screaming, “Fuck me Cowboy!!!”  
  
“And by the way, I figured out this was some kind of um...whadya call it...bachelor party, and you guys were all doing what you were doing for fun, so don’t worry.  I won’t be scarred for life,” Carl smirked.  
  
“So, I’m off the hook for tonight?” Rick asked.  
  
“Fuck no!” Carl laughed.  “Stripper pole dad!  Stripper pole!  There are some things that are seen that can never be _unseen_!”  
  
Rick laughed before he grabbed his son and hugged him tightly to him as they sat on the couch together.  
  
He forgot how much he just liked _talking_ to his boy.  
  
“Let’s get back to the party,” Rick said, as they both got up from the sofa.  “Daryl!” Rick called out as he turned around, surprised when he saw his neighbor standing right there behind him.  “Oh!”  
  
He needed to get a bell for the man to wear around his neck.  
  
He was far too stealthy.  
  
“Wasn’t far,” Daryl shrugged.  “Ready to go back up and face the music?”  
  
“As long as I’m not strippin' to it, yeah,” Rick chuckled.  
  
“Fine by me.  One of them _harpies_ ,” he said, snickering as he did so, recalling Lori’s nickname for the women, “stole my underwear.  Can’t find ‘em anywhere.”  
  
“Welcome to my world,” Rick said as he shook his head.  
  
“This place is awesome!” Carl said with a smile.  
  
They managed to make their way up the stairs and through the door to the roof.  
  
“Carl, I forgot one thing,” Rick said as he put his arm around his son’s shoulders.  He toed the ground before asking quietly, “does…does Judith know that I’m gone?  I mean...does she...”  
  
“You’re kidding me, right?” Carl scoffed.  “I have to sing her that stupid song, you know the one, to get her to sleep at night.  _Every_ night!”  
  
“Which song?” Rick smiled.  
  
“You know which song dad,” Carl grimaced, rolling his eyes.  
  
“You know, I’m not quite sure,” Rick said with a shake of his head, a smirk on his face.  “You might have to remind me.”  
  
“Dad,” Carl whined.  
  
“Come on,” Rick said.  “Humor your old man.”  
  
“I hate you,” Carl droned.  “‘I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day,’” he sang quietly, under his breath.  
  
“Oh you can sing it way better than that!” Rick laughed.  
  
“‘When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May,’” Carl sang a little more loudly as he swayed his hips.  
  
Rick smiled as Daryl came and stood beside him, smiling as well.  “‘I guess, you’d say.   What can make me feel this way?’” Carl continued to sing before he looked at his father with his pleading eyes.  “Dad!  Come on!  People are looking!”  
  
“‘My girl,’” Rick joined in, while swinging hips in time with Carl’s, Daryl joining in as well, all three singing the ‘My girl’ part at different levels.  “‘Talkin’ ‘bout my girl,’” Ring sang, Carl and Daryl saying ‘My girl’ abruptly.  
  
Before any of the three men could sing any further, Tyreese shuffled up and joined the small group, taking over singing the next set in the most perfect baritone Rick had ever heard, “‘I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me.  I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees.’”  
  
Everyone had crowded around the group and swayed in time with the music, snapping their fingers as Tyreese continued to sing, Daryl, Rick and Carl being the back up vocals.  
  
“He can’t remember how to tie his shoes in the morning but he can remember the words in a stupid song!” Sasha said as she shook her head, smiling and laughing fondly at her brother.  
  
When the song was over, they all looked over at a sleeping Judith, snuggled peacefully in Carol’s arms.  
  
“Works like a charm every time,” both Carl and Rick said at the same time.  
  
“That was great!” Tyreese said as he walked over to Rick and Carl.  “My name is Tyreese.  And you are?” he said as he held out his hand.  
  
Rick thought that the one thing that could be said for the former quarterback was that he was extremely _polite_ each and every time.  
  
“See Lori,” Rick said as he walked up to his ex-wife and Shane.  “It’s okay here.  These are good people.  Nothin’ weird at all.”  
  
Lori gave Rick a reassuring smile, when the roof top door slammed open quite suddenly and there stood Alex, wearing only his board shorts and a stupid grin.  
  
“I got the plastic sheets and buckets of KY Jelly!” Alex exclaimed excitedly.  “We’re all set to party dudes!!!”  
  
Rick sighed as he realized that if there was a group of people who worshiped at the altar of bad timing, Alex would be their _god_.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Whew! That one is over!
> 
> I hope you liked. Please comment on this one. I was worried about going too much one way or the other.
> 
> Yes, that song was "My Girl" by the Temptations. Remember, my Rick LOVES his Motown (like me).
> 
> Once again, I live for comments, feedback and all correspondence!!!! :D


	18. If there's something rotten in Denmark, it's probably the fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I scrapped this chapter a few times. My life was kind of hectic and I was tired and then a few days ago, I caught up with sleep and life itself. So here you go. I broke the chapter into 2.
> 
> It's the day of the wedding...

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Rick had awakened suddenly to the mouth watering aroma of cooking bacon.  
  
He loved that smell.  
  
He _adored_ that smell.  
  
Rick wondered why it was women were always burning candles and melting wax and using room sprays that smelled like flowers, fruits or spices, all the while something like the scent of cooking bacon existed, it having descended down from heaven and the very gods themselves.  
  
Of course the lovely smell was pushed aside when he stopped short of the sight that greeted him as he approached the kitchen.  
  
Now normally, he would have said that the odd scene had been the strangest thing he had seen in a long time, but the truth of the matter was, after witnessing a life-sized cake roll down the stairs, only to be violated by a large ice cream cone in the street, penguins following him as if they had imprinted on him, teddy bear porn, spiked heeled boots and wonder bras and gopher massacres, he couldn’t very well call what he was seeing all that _bizarre_.  
  
For there stood Daryl, pulling a tray of what appeared to be muffins out of the oven and placing them atop the stove, his big flowery, ruffled oven mitts an oddity on the hunter.  Merle, fully clothed thankfully, and Carl were sitting at the small round table, Merle spoon feeding Judith applesauce in a high chair he had never seen before while his son fiddled with some buttons on his phone.  
  
It was one of the most domestic scenes he had ever woken up to.  Lori had, and usually only on Sundays, tried her hand at a family breakfast, but it had generally ended with disastrous results.  
  
“So where’s the Beav?” Rick chuckled.  
  
“Huh?” Carl said, confusion lighting his face as he looked up at his father.  
  
“Before your time,” Merle muttered, wiping Judith’s chin as she spit some of the food back out.  
  
“Cool pajama pants dad,” Carl snickered as he snapped a photo of Rick in his blue silk pajama bottoms, courtesy of Michonne and Andrea.  “Retired those old plaid things?”  
  
“Can’t find ‘em,” Rick muttered.  “What’s all this?”  
  
“ _Darlina_ ,” Merle mocked, “here decided to make breakfast for the rug rats.  Thought they should start the day off right or some shit.”  
  
“Thought you needed a break,” Daryl shrugged.    
  
“I ain’t no rug rat!” Carl groused.  
  
“ _I’m not_ a rug rat,” Rick corrected.    
  
Carl was about to argue when Rick tilted his head.  “Our deal was only for yesterday.”  
  
“I hate when you get all resolvey face like that,” Carl grumped, his hands crossed over his chest.  
  
“It is his resolvey face, ain’t it?” Merle said as he leaned in to Carl conspiratorially.  
  
“Merle,” Rick sighed.  “Don’t encourage him.  God, what are those,” he moaned in pleasure as he leaned over the muffins on the stove, eyeing the delectable looking treats.  “And where’s all the bacon?  I smelled bacon.  Is that a bacon lure you use in hunting or did I just miss all the bacon?  Tell me I didn’t miss the bacon.”  
  
“Them muffins you’re drooling over,” Daryl chuckled, “are eggs wrapped up in bacon.”  
  
Rick looked down once more at the muffins.  Sure enough, there appeared to be an egg mixture smothered in cheddar cheese and green onions, all wrapped up together in a bacon cup.  
  
It was ingenious.  
  
Had Neolithic Man discovered the bacon cup before the wheel, the concept of circular movement might never have come to fruition as everyone would have sat around getting fat and lazy.  
  
“Where’d you learn to cook like that?” Rick asked incredulously as he watched Carl take another bite of one of the previously cooked muffins.  
  
“I got this children’s cook book called, ‘How to Cook for your Picky Eater,’” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Aw Daryl,” Rick said worriedly, “you shouldna oughta got the book just for my kids.”  
  
“What?” Daryl said taken aback.  “It weren’t for your kids!  I got it a long time ago for Merle.  He’s worse than a two year-old!”  
  
Rick watched as Merle and Carl rolled their eyes at each other.  
  
“Well it looks real good.  I’m starvin,’” Rick said as he sat at the table.  
  
“Give ‘em a few minutes to cool,” Daryl said.  
  
“Where’d the high chair come from?” Rick asked.  
  
Rick wondered if the girls had brought it over some time in the morning.  After all, they had been responsible for transforming the studio into the kids’ room.  
  
Michonne, Andrea, Sasha, Carol and Beth (Maggie being too busy with her wedding preparations) had, over the course of the week, come over and re-painted the walls, put in a crib and twin bed along with some bedding, and a single dresser that had a changing table on top.  They had done everything in neutral shades of cream, light brown and mossy green, which complemented the room with its natural lighting.  
  
Rick had _insisted_ on paying the girls back for everything.  Michonne had told him he could when she was able to locate the receipt, which as it seemed, had gone missing.  
  
He suspected that receipt was long gone and would be harder to locate than Jimmy Hoffa.  
  
They added little touches here and there to make it truly homey.  Andrea had placed a mobile, adorned with small penguins with small beanie caps and small scarves, above the crib.    
  
Rick had not been amused.  
  
At first, that is.  
  
The catalyst had been when Carl had asked ‘why penguins?’ that had caused everyone to break into laughter.    
  
Rick had promised Carl he would relate the story to him later.  
  
That, or he would end up finding out about it on his own.  
  
Rick had added glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, more for Judith than Carl.  He had worried that his son might consider it too childish, but when the lights went out the night before, he noticed Carl’s face had lit up in a genuine smile.  
  
“I got it at one of them stores that open early,” Daryl shrugged.  “Noticed you took care of everything else but that.”  
  
Daryl had gotten up early, thought of a high chair, _purchased_ one, made a delicious breakfast and even managed to get his surly brother to feed the baby.  
  
The man never ceased to amaze him.  
  
“Well thank you,” Rick smiled, Daryl giving a shy smile in return as he placed a plate of heavenly smelling food in front of him.  
  
Merle rolled his eyes one more time, thereby distracting him enough so he hadn’t prepared himself for Judith spitting applesauce back in his face.  
  
Rick cringed, waiting for the inevitable blow up, before Merle took a dish towel, wiped his face and said, “wouldn’t be the first _fe_ -male who spit in my face.”  
  
While everyone chuckled and Rick made ready to eat his breakfast, the door slammed open and a frantic Maggie rushed in.  
  
“Rick!  Daryl!  Thank God we found you!” Maggie panted out, her eyes crazed, her hair wrapped around several tiny curlers and piled tightly onto her head.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl muttered.  “Must’ve been hard, you know, being that you found us where he lives an' all.”  
  
“Mags!  You gotta knock first!” Glenn pleaded as he rushed into the apartment after his soon-to-be wife.  
  
“There’s no time!” Maggie started raving.  “No time!”  
  
“Maggie?” Rick asked as he and Daryl got up from the table to address the harried woman.  
  
“There was this thing…last night…and water…and Bob…and then… _poof_ …and, and all of it…I mean… _all of it_ ,” Maggie, completely winded and distraught, managed to get out.  
  
Or in this case, _not_ get out.  
  
“Okay, I got none of that,” Daryl said calmly.  “Glenn?”  
  
“How could she have explained it any more clearly?!” Glenn shouted, almost as flustered.  
  
“I dunno, with words and sentences and…less of the crazy,” Rick said.  
  
“There was a power outage in the middle of the night on Bob’s grid.  I mean, the grid where his restaurant and catering service is,” Glenn said as he shook his head.    
  
“His refrigeration went out.  Everything, all the food for the wedding…ruined,” Maggie sobbed, her bottom lip trembling.  
  
“Wait.  Is _everything_ ruined?  I mean, how long was the refrigeration out exactly?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Well, see?  That’s the thing.  The power outage was due to the pipes in his building bursting, flooding the place and shorting the power.  Shoulda said that first,” Glenn winced.  “All the food is warm _and_ under water.”  
  
“Okay, yeah, that would do it,” Daryl nodded.  
  
“When it rains, it pours,” Merle said.  “Then it floods your place, shorts everything out and ruins your whole damn wedding.’”  
  
“Shut the fuck up Merle,” Daryl groused.  
  
“Okay, can Bob just get more… _stuff_ and you know… _thangs_ …and prepare it in time for the wedding?” Rick asked.  
  
“He’s gotta handle the problem at his business first,” Glenn said sadly.  “He might not even make it to the wedding at this point.”  
  
“Is there anybody else?” Rick asked.  
  
“We just met up with Abe and Rosita in the hallway.  Rosita is making some calls and,” Maggie sighed.  “I dunno…”  
  
And as if Abraham’s ears had been turning red, both the gruff man and his girlfriend entered the apartment, followed in by another man.  
  
A pudgy fellow who had, of all things, a mullet.

Rick thought the mullet had gone the way of the dodo bird.  
  
“People do _still_ know how to knock, right?” Carl asked.  
  
“Don’t,” Rick started.  “Just…don’t.”  
  
At least they weren’t breaking into his apartment in the middle of the night, chloroforming him and grooming him without his consent.  
  
It was all about perspective.  
  
“Got the problem solved,” Abe said as he seemed pleased with himself.  
  
“No he didn’t,” Rosita said sadly.  
  
“What are you talking about?  I handled it,” the newcomer said.  
  
“Just tell them,” Rosita sighed.  
  
“We have not had the pleasure of an introduction yet,” the man said as he approached Rick.  “My name is Eugene Porter.”  
  
“Rick Grimes,” he said as he shook hands with the strange man who seemed to like to talk in a monotone voice.  “I haven’t seen you ‘round.”  
  
“I have been on vacation for the past two weeks,” Eugene replied.  
  
“Oh!  The islands?  Florida?” Rick asked.  
  
“His mother’s,” Rosita droned.  
  
“So you said you liked fish, right?” Abe said, anxious to get back to the point.  “I set Eugene on the case and he was able to handle the situation.”  
  
“You got us a sushi bar or…or salmon?” Glenn asked excitedly, Maggie perking up as well.  
  
“Far better than that.  I have a friend who runs a Scandinavian restaurant,” Eugene replied flatly.  
  
“That’s odd,” Daryl whispered into Rick’s ear.  
  
“What?  A Scandinavian restaurant?” Rick whispered back.  
  
“No.  That he’s gotta friend,” Daryl said.  
  
“Okay,” Glenn said.  “I’m listening.”  
  
“Oh God,” Rosita sighed again.  
  
“He apparently has a surplus of a well known Scandinavian delicacy, consumed by the many peoples of Norway, Sweden, Finland and Minnesota,” Eugene said.    
  
“I don’t like where this is going,” Glenn started.  
  
“Lutefisk,” Eugene stated.  “And Sven is well known for his world renowned lutefisk.”  
  
“Which he chooses to serve _here_ …in Atlanta,” Glenn said sarcastically.  “The food capital of the world.”  
  
“Lutefisk origins run all the way back to Viking times,” Eugene continued, ignoring everyone’s stunned faces.  “Vikings used to hang their cod out to dry…”  
  
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with fish?” Abe asked.  
  
“I’ll explain it later sweetie,” Rosita said.  
  
“When the neighboring Vikings attacked one particular village, they burned the racks of hanging fish, but a rainstorm blew in from the North Sea, dousing the fire.  The remaining fish soaked in a puddle of rainwater and birch ash for months before some hungry Vikings discovered the cod, reconstituted it and had a mighty feast,” Eugene said, relating the tale as dully and as boring as humanly possible.  
  
As he kept talking, Rick found himself starting to nod off on Daryl’s shoulder, who nudged him awake.  
  
“Another story tells of St. Patrick’s attempt to poison Viking raiders in Ireland…”  
  
And Eugene was _still_ talking.  
  
“..with the lye soaked fish.  But rather than kill them, the Vikings relished the fish and declared it a delicacy,” Eugene stated.  “It makes for a great story, if you don’t mind the fact that Patrick lived centuries before the Vikings attacked Ireland.”  
  
“We’re not serving fish that was buried by Vikings a long time ago, sprinkled with lye and dug up again,” Glenn groused.  
  
“Lutefisk isn’t prepared that way,” Eugene said with a frown.  
  
“I’ve smelled it before.  Trust me, it is,” Glenn said.  
  
Rick had to agree with Glenn.  
  
No doubt serial killers took pointers about how to dispose of a body from people who prepared lutefisk.  
  
“I’ll have you know that Madison, Minnesota has been dubbed the lutefisk capital of the world,” Eugene said matter-of-factly.  
  
“Yeah, isn’t that the state that elected a former wrestler as their governor?” Rosita asked.  
  
“Okay,” Maggie said as she tried to reign things in, “we are _not_ serving lutefisk.  The smell alone would be unbearable.  I’m sorry Eugene.  But thank you for trying.  Oh!  We’re just not getting anywhere.”  Maggie said in distress, as she looked to Daryl and Rick once more pleadingly.  
  
Why was it always him?  
  
Or Daryl?  
  
Rick had nothing really.  Except for maybe calling Dominos and ordering two hundred pizzas, he had nothing.  “What’s that smell?” Rick asked.  
  
Deflecting was always a good distraction.  
  
“My hair,” Maggie said.  “I gave myself a home permanent so I would have cute little ringlets.  It’s the solution that you smell.”  
  
Well it certainly wasn’t bacon.  
  
“It’s gonna be so _adorable_ ,” Rosita gushed.  
  
Rick wondered why women always wanted little curls in their hair.  
  
He hated it.  
  
At least on him, that was.  
  
Rick remembered Lori giving herself a home permanent quite a while back.  
  
He shuddered when he remembered how _that_ had turned out.  
  
“Um, Maggie?” Rick asked.  “How long those curlers been in there?”  
  
Maggie closed her mouth in a pout before her cell phone rang.  “Oh, hold on,” she said as she answered the phone.  “Sasha!  Yeah…oh you talked to Bob…oh he did?… _you_ did?… _he_ did?…really?…he did?…okay…Oh God…that’s great…okay…Thank you Sasha!”  
  
“That was Sasha!” Maggie said excitedly as she ended the call.    
  
“Wouldna guessed,” Abe smirked, Rosita elbowing him.  
  
“We’re saved,” Maggie smiled.  “Bob had gotten hold of Sasha.  She already talked to Tyreese about his former connections when he was still with the team.  He immediately got on the phone with someone who caters all the events at the stadium.  They’re fast and professional and have no problem getting everything ready in the next few hours.”  
  
“You’re kidding me?!” Rick said.  
  
“What?  That someone could cater an event the size of our wedding on such short notice?” Glenn asked.  
  
“No, that Tyreese can remember how to use the phone,” Rick said, Daryl smirking at him as he did so.  
  
“I still think lutefisk would have been better.  The Norwegian Seafood Export Council has said that sales of the delicacy have increased in Norway by seventy two percent,” Eugene stated.  
  
“Yeah, well, that shit is so _toxic_ ,” Glenn grimaced.  
  
“Actually the ‘Wisconsin’s Employees’ Right to Know handbook’ specifically exempts lutefisk in its definition of toxic substances,” Eugene said.  
  
The fact that it had to have an exemption was a little terrifying.  
  
Also, it appeared that if Rick ever needed to know any useless information, Eugene would be his go-to guy.  
  
“Maggie?” Rick winced.  “I gotta ask again.  How long you had them curlers in your hair?”  
  
“I don’t know.  Like fifteen minutes?” Maggie shrugged.  
  
“Um Maggie,” Rosita said.  “When we saw you, like… _an hour ago_ , you had them in your hair.”  
  
“Mags,” Glenn said.  “In all the excitement, I forgot.  You put those in _before_ we got the call about Bob, about an hour _before_ we saw Abe and Rosita in the hallway.”  
  
“No, you see? That’s wrong.  Because I’m only supposed to have this stuff in my hair for about half an hour, tops,” Maggie said, the smile slowly beginning to fade from her face and turning to one of terror.  “ _Oh my God!_ ”  
  
The bride-to-be ran out of the apartment, and down the two flights of stairs, Glenn calling after her, “It’ll be okay Maggie!”  He then turned to everyone in the apartment.  “It should be okay, right?”  
  
“Sure,” “yeah,” and “I don’t see why not” could be heard all around.  
  
“It will most surely burn the hair on top of her head,” Eugene stated.  He then looked down at his watch.  “And she will be saying her vows in front of five hundred people in less than two hours.”  
  
“Thanks Eugene,” Glenn said as he nodded his head.  “You should work for a suicide hot line,” he said as he walked out the door dejectedly and no doubt, back to his apartment to comfort his wife.  
  
“I better go help her,” Rosita said as she followed suit, Abe and Eugene leaving as well.  
  
“Okay, that was fun,” Daryl said.  “You really think it’ll burn the hair off her head?”  
  
“Lori did it a while back,” Rick grimaced.  “It didn’t burn her hair, but…well…think ‘brillo pad.’”  
  
“I remember Shane calling her that for a week!” Carl chuckled.  
  
And yet, Lori still slept with him.  
  
They sat down to eat, Carl looking around before chuckling again.  “This place is _awesome_.”  
  
Just then a loud, blood curdling scream rent the air.  
  
It shook the pictures on the wall behind Rick and Daryl’s head.  
  
Rick was pretty sure there was an astronaut in the International Space Station right about now asking, ‘Dear God, what was that?!’  
  
And then the screaming got louder, if that was even possible.  
  
Daryl and Rick got up from their chairs and ran into the hallway, Rick telling Carl to stay behind.  
  
He watched as everyone slowly emerged from their apartments as they heard the screaming, which turned into crying and sobbing as Maggie emerged from her own apartment.  
  
It was Lori’s hair all over again, only worse.  
  
It wasn’t like a regular brillo pad.  
  
It was like a brillo pad that had been deep fried in battery acid, then a blow torch taken to it.  
  
“I tried…I thought…with the blow dryer…but then… _this_!” Maggie continued to sob.  
  
And just like that, crazed Maggie was back.  
  
“Oh my God,” Dale said as he looked on in fascination, touching the hair delicately.  “Ouch!  Her hair just shocked me!”  
  
“We should probably ground her head or something,” Abe said, Rosita elbowing him once more.  
  
“Is my hair gonna fall out?” Maggie asked between tears.  
  
Andrea walked up to Maggie and looked at the mess, putting her hand on her shoulder comfortingly.  “Actually, no.  It’ll be a few days before that settles out though.  I know bad home perms quite well, thank you very much,” she said as she addressed the crowd of people.  
  
“I don’t care what it’s gonna look like in a few days!  I care _now_!  Oh my God!” Maggie wailed.  “What am I gonna do?”  
  
“Did you try using relaxer when you blew it dry?” Rick asked Rosita.  
  
“You know what relaxer is?” Daryl whispered to Rick.  
  
“Not now,” Rick groused.  
  
“Of course he knows!” Merle scowled.  “Man’s probably got gallons of the stuff in his bathroom.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say gallons,” Rick said.    
  
It was just a small bottle really.  
  
“She used solution,” Andrea shook her head sadly.  “Really, she couldn’t even wash it out now.”  
  
Rick looked at the distraught bride, who was weeping into Glenn’s shoulder.  “It’ll be okay Mags.  We’ll figure out something.”  
  
“I know sweetie, I know,” Maggie said.  “I know you’ll always be there for me.”  
  
“And always know what it is you need,” Glenn finished for her.  
  
“I think they just took their vows right here,” Dale said, on the verge of weeping.  
  
“I know what you gotta do,” Merle said.  
  
“Oh, this oughta be good,” Abe said.  
  
“Paint one of them white streaks down one side of your hair,” Merle started.  
  
“Oh my God!  If you say, ‘go as the Bride of Frankenstein,’ I will _personally_ stuff you into the stripper cake downstairs and roll you out into the street,” Glenn barked.  
  
“For fucksake Merle!” Daryl groused.  
  
Now, Rick may not have been the kind of guy that could pull a caterer out of thin air, as Tyreese had, but he could be quite resourceful when needed as he suddenly came up with an idea.  
  
“I gotta idea!” Rick said.  “Just sit tight.”  
  
Everyone moved toward the balcony as they watched Rick race down the flight of stairs and knock on Joe’s apartment door.  
  
He looked up at their expectant faces.  
  
They were counting on him.  
  
No pressure whatsoever.  
  
“Come in!” Joe yelled from inside the unit.  “We’re decent!”  
  
The “we’re decent” should have clued Rick into what he was walking into, but to tell the truth, he just wanted to handle Maggie’s problem.  
  
“This is _decent?!_ ” Rick exclaimed.  “This is far from ‘decent!’  This is the complete _opposite_ of ‘decent.’  ‘Decent’ hopped on a plane and headed for a mountain top in Tibet!”  
  
For there was Joe on the floor, naked except for his robe strewn about him, a nicely shaped woman with flaxen hair and a perfect tan riding his cock.  Another nicely shaped woman, with dark Mocha colored skin and beautiful eyes seemed to be busy bathing Joe’s chest with her tongue slowly.  
  
No doubt these two beauties’ torsos would be gracing Joe’s bust room sometime later, if not already.  
  
“Hey Rick!” Joe said as he looked up at Rick’s tormented face.  “This _is_ decent.  Was just reading a book,” he said as he lifted the book up that he had indeed been reading while the two women serviced him.  “What’s up?  Wedding started yet?”  
  
“You left the party last night the same time we all did?!” Rick exclaimed.  “What?  Nachos at the 7-11 again?”  
  
“Naw, you don’t find supermodels of this caliber at a 7-11.  Had to get smokes,” he said as he got up, fixing his velvet robe around him carelessly, instructing the girls to do the same with their scattered clothing.  “Went to the Shell station.  They were getting gas.  The rest,” he said with a smile as he held his arms out, the girls rushing to get either side of him, “is history.”  
  
“Great.  Hey, we have a problem,” Rick said.  
  
“Glenn take off?  Cold feet?” Joe asked as he stood straighter, a sympathetic look on his face.  
  
“No,” Rick said, shaking his head.  
  
“Maggie?” Joe asked with a frown.  
  
“No.  Jesus!  They’re all together upstairs, along with the rest of the building!” Rick exclaimed in frustration.  
  
“Had a party and didn’t let me know,” Joe nodded sadly.  
  
“What?  No!  No party.  Just breakfast,” Rick said.    
  
“Oh good.  ‘Cause we’re starving!” Joe said.  “All this sex makes me hungry.”  
  
Yes, because throwing the fact that Joe was having more sex than most people on the planet to someone who hadn’t had sex in what seemed like forever was a sane thing to do.  
  
Rick liked Joe, but if he mentioned sex one more time, he was going for his throat.  
  
“No.  Look.  Maggie’s hair, it’s, well…it’s just not right,” Rick said in all seriousness.  “So remember that hat you used to wear on stage…”  
  
“You mean my big ole top hat?” Joe said, a fond smile appearing on his face.  
  
“Yeah!” Rick said excitedly.  “Maggie sure could use it right about now.”  
  
“Say no more,” Joe said.  “I can get it for you right now,” he said as he walked away, leaving the two models staring back at Rick.  
  
They both looked at him, then turned to each other and giggled.  
  
“We gotta ask,” the blonde model said.  “Are you the penguin guy?”  
  
Fuck his life.  
  
Joe will always be known as a Rock god.  
  
And Rick would always be known as ‘the Penguin Guy.’  
  
Though, truth be told, if it actually allowed him to have sex without strings attached when he went downstairs to get a slurpee, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but somehow he didn’t see that happening.  
  
“Here it is!” Joe proclaimed as he came walking out with a large, black top hat.  It was still in pristine condition and just as Rick had remembered it when Joe had worn it on stage at one of his tours.  
  
It was _beautiful_.  
  
And it was quite literally, mind-blowing.  It was the _very same_ hat Joe had worn on one of his album covers.  Rick had always though the hat one of the coolest things he had ever seen.  
  
“Tell Maggie to wear a headband under it, to keep it in place,” Joe said as he turned the hat around in his hands.  “Make sure it’s blue, so it covers the blue part.”  
  
“The blue…blue part?” Rick asked, completely bewildered.  
  
“You know.  Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” Joe rattled off the rhyme.  “I figure she just knocked out three of the four.  Its old, borrowed and if she swears a blue headband, _blue_.  See?” Joe smiled as he handed the hat to Rick.  
  
He would _never_ have guessed Joe to be such a traditionalist.  
  
“Anyway, I gotta go,” Joe said as he pushed Rick out the door.  “I promised them one more round of three-way sixty-nine before I gotta get to the wedding, so good luck with the hat,” Joe said as he shut the door in Rick’s face.  
  
It had been such a tender moment.  
  
“Maggie!” Rick yelled as he came running up the stairs.  “Look what I got!” he said as he ran back up the stairs, wondering where everyone had gone.  “Where is everybody?”  
  
“We’re in here Rick,” Daryl said as he poked his head out of Rick’s apartment door.  
  
Why was it always his apartment everyone ended up in?  
  
Rick ran into his apartment and produced the hat for all to see.  
  
“That’s Joe’s hat,” Maggie said suddenly taken aback.  “You mean…?”  
  
“She _gets_ to wear Joe’s hat?” Glenn asked in complete astonishment.  
  
“That’s _the_ hat,” Abe said.  “That’s the hat, right?”  
  
“I can wear it?  Really?” Maggie said in disbelief as she took the hat delicately from Rick’s hands.  
  
Maggie put the hat atop her head, the coarseness of her hair making it so the large hat covered her hair completely.  “How does it look?” she asked tentatively.  
  
“Babe,” Glenn said with an appreciative smile, “it looks…”  
  
“ _Awesome_ ,” Carl said from behind everyone.  
  
“Outta the mouths of babes,” Michonne chuckled.  
  
“I’m not a babe!” Carl exclaimed angrily.  
  
“You do realize what you just said out loud, don’t you?” Daryl said to Carl.  
  
“Oh!” Rick exclaimed.  “Does anybody have a blue scarf?”  
  
“Oh!  Oh!” Andrea said excitedly.  “I have one that’ll look great on there!”  
  
“But why blue?” Abe asked.  
  
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” Sasha recited.    
  
“Rick!  How thoughtful of you!” Michonne smiled at Rick.  
  
“Yeah, well, actually,” Rick started before Maggie walked over and hugged Rick to her tightly.  
  
“Thank you Rick!” Maggie gushed.  “You keep saving the day!  From the prison to the hat and you even took your clothes off last night for us.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks.  You too Daryl,” Glenn sighed.  “Now the women won’t stop talking about the two of you.”  
  
“Come on sweetie, let’s fix you up,” Michonne said as she started to usher the group out the door.  
  
But of course, the forces that seemed to like to fuck with people on their wedding day, weren’t quite done yet as Beth came running through the door.  
  
“Maggie!” Beth exclaimed breathlessly.  “Oh look at your hat,” she cooed as he she tilted her head.   
  
“Bethy!  Why’d you come barging in here?” Maggie asked anxiously.  
  
“Don’t be mad Maggie,” Beth said, cringing as she did so.  
  
“You had nothing to do with my hair.  It was all me,” Maggie said.  
  
“Not your hair Maggie.  Wait.  Your _hair_?” Beth said.  “Was that what all the screaming was about?  Is that why you got on that hat?”  
  
“I screwed up my hair,” Maggie pouted, “but Rick saved the day with this hat.”  
  
“Aw!” Beth simpered as she looked at Rick.  “You saved my sister’s hair.”  
  
“I didn’t save her hair,” Rick frowned.  “I gave her a hat.”  
  
Shaking her head clear, Beth addressed Maggie, contrite once more.  “It’s the D.J. Maggie.”  
  
“Don’t tell me,” Glenn groused.  “What?  The D.J. spontaneously _combusted_ or something?!”  
  
“No, nothing like that,” Beth said.  “He was in Los Angeles.  That’s in California,” she clarified.  
  
“Oh well, that clears things up,” Andrea droned.  “I was thinking she meant the Los Angeles that’s in Cuba.”

"And you always thinkin' you're so smart," Merle huffed.  "There ain't no Los Angeles in Cuba."  
  
“So he missed his connecting flight,” Beth continued.  “He’s stuck in a place called Madison, Minnesota.”  
  
“Hope he likes lutefisk,” Abe chuckled, Rosita elbowing him once again.  
  
“He can’t get another flight until late tonight,” Beth said, biting her lip.  
  
“Hopefully he doesn’t do that spontaneous combustion thing on the plane,” Merle said.  
  
“That’s crazy!” Dale said indignantly.  
  
“That the D.J. had to cancel for the wedding?” Sasha asked.  
  
“No, that someone would have to go all the way to Minnesota from L.A. to catch a flight to Atlanta,” Dale said.  “I swear the airlines now are doing the craziest things.  What next?  If you wanna catch a flight from Atlanta to New York, do they have you do a layover in _Norway_?!”  
  
“I will personally kill the next person that makes a crack about lutefisk,” Rosita warned.  
  
“So I have no music for my wedding!” Maggie said wearily.  “Five hundred people and no music.”  
  
“Yeah but we got the Riverdance people and…and that a cappella group,” Glenn said.  
  
“That ain’t _dancin’_ music!” Maggie whined.  “We need music.  Real music!  Music that makes people wanna get up and dance despite the fact they just ate too much cake or drank too much or that they _can’t_ dance.  It’s a wedding!  It’s _my_ wedding and I want people to have fun!  Is it too much to ask for?!” Maggie yelled at the ceiling, no doubt calling to a higher power.  
  
Rick looked over at Daryl.  
  
He knew it was a crazy idea (one of many obviously) but he knew without a doubt, for whatever reason, that Daryl would back him on this if the others balked too much.  
  
He could do it.  
  
“Trust me on this, okay?” Rick whispered to Carl.  
  
“Dad?” Carl said, a confused look on his face.  
  
“This church I go to has this choir,” Rick started.  
  
“Oh Rick, gospel music ain’t gonna be dancing kind of music,” Maggie said sadly.  
  
“Hear me out,” Rick said as he put his hand out to Maggie.  “’S not gospel.  You see, they’re nuns.  It’s at St. Charles Cathedral…”  
  
“Dad, we’re not Catholic,” Carl said.  
  
“I know that.  But the music!” Rick smiled.  “Oh man.  Look, when I first started working for the Atlanta P.D., I got called out to the church.  They had a string of vandalisms.  None of the other cops were taking it seriously.  But I did, just like I did when I was a Deputy Sheriff.  So I went to the church and looked around and ended up going back every night, to keep an eye on the place…”  
  
“Did you ever catch the vandals?” Andrea asked.  
  
“Yeah, I did, but that’s not the point of the story,” Rick continued.  “Every night, they would have choir practice.  These women, they’re _amazing_.  They sing the Supremes and some other Motown hits and I swear on everything that’s holy, the Mother Superior might as well be Aretha Franklin herself.  No joke.  And they have a band...members of the church.  They must’ve been part of a blues band at one time.”  
  
“Singing…singing nuns?!” Glenn sputtered out, “at our wedding?!  Will the Von Trapp children be there as well?” Glenn asked sarcastically.  
  
“White nuns doing Motown?” Michonne scoffed.  “Really?”  
  
“They’re all African American,” Rick said.  “They’re like, one of three predominantly black orders.”  
  
“Black singin’ nuns.  Now if that ain’t the damnedest thing,” Merle said, a look of curiosity on his face.  
  
“They’re good?” Maggie asked.  
  
“They’re _perfect_ ,” Rick said.  
  
“Why not?!” Maggie said as she threw her hands up in the air.  “I got a big ole top hat that Joe did God knows what to covering my hair that makes me look like Eraserhead, we’re gettin’ married in a prison and I’m servin’ my guests, well…I’m not quite sure _what_ we’re serving them.  Might as well have singing nuns too!”  
  
“Well, when you put it all into perspective like that, it does sound rather silly,” Glenn said before a smile appeared on his face.  “I’m in for the singing nuns too!”  
  
“I may actually wanna go to this thing after all,” Merle huffed.  
  
“Can you get ‘em on such short notice Rick?” Maggie asked.  
  
“Well, the Mother Superior said they owed me a favor, so I guess I’m callin' it in,” Rick said.  “Just don’t get your hopes up too high. They could be busy.”  
  
Rick pulled out his cell phone.  He looked back at the remains of breakfast, now thoroughly cold.    
  
He was still _really_ hungry.  
  
But he didn’t have time to think about that now.  He needed to call the church.  
  
And just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to eat until he actually _got_ to the wedding, Daryl came up behind him and produced a plate with two reheated egg and bacon cups, that heady aroma making his mouth water yet again.  
  
“Ain’t no reason you should do all the heavy lifting,” Daryl smiled at him.  “Eat after the phone call,” he ordered.  
  
Rick took a moment when a certain realization dawned on him.  
  
Daryl was there for Rick when he needed him, and always seemed to _know_ what he needed in return.  
  
Daryl was Glenn to Rick’s Maggie.  
  
Only Rick knew how to manage his hair better.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I really don’t know that much about lutefisk, except that it smells awful and I wouldn’t eat it on a bet. I got all the stats on Wikipedia. The little speech Eugene makes about its origins (Vikings and St. Patrick) is a piece that was written in the Smithsonian. It sounded EXACTLY like something Eugene would relate, so that’s where that came from.
> 
> Also, there really are 3 predominantly African American orders, but I'm not sure if one is in Atlanta, and I'm pretty sure they don't do Motown, but in my world, (and Rick's) I would like to think so. :)
> 
> And as for the hat? If you want to know what it looks like, google Marc Bolan's hat (the frontrunner for T-Rex). It really is awesome. 
> 
> And PLEASE, PLEASE comment. I really do need to know if I haven't blown everyone away because I've been MIA. Thank you.


	19. Vegas might have been a better option, but it wouldn't have been as fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here it goes. I would have put this out much sooner, but it would have been in pieces, like the serial groomer thing. So I decided I would post the wedding in its COMPLETE entirety. It's over 16K long!
> 
> So here it is.
> 
> If you want to know what Maggie and the bridesmaid dresses look like, or the cake, I now have a tumblr account. You can go here for the [dress post](http://dementedqueen.tumblr.com/tagged/there%27s%C2%A0something-about-rick-maggies-wedding-dress-the-bridesmaid-dresses). Also, you can follow me on tumblr and I'll follow you back. :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Adjusting the knot in his charcoal gray tie, a slightly different shade of gray from his suit, Rick shrugged into said suit jacket while looking at himself in the mirror behind the bedroom door.  
  
The suit was one of the new slim cuts, so everything from the pants to the jacket fit him like a glove.  That, along with his silk shirt, a creamy shade of lilac, and his new shiny loafers, he looked, well, he looked _good_.  
  
Really good.  
  
Rick actually found himself nodding in approval at his mirror image.  
  
He was interrupted from his preening by a knock on the door.  “Dad?”  
  
He opened it to find his son, who walked into his bedroom while whistling.  
  
“Whoa dad!” Carl said as he took in his father appreciatively.  “Looking good.”  
  
Carl looked well put together himself, a smart vest completing his outfit.  
  
“The girls bought it for me,” Rick smiled.  “Can’t rightly say no to them,” he winced, shivering at the thought of it.  
  
When he had first seen the ensemble, the same day he had been fitted for the alterations, he had noticed the label and had been completely gobsmacked.  He had to look twice to make sure that was indeed, Giorgio Armani’s name.  
  
Rick had tried to convince the girls that he couldn’t accept such an extravagant gift.  But they had been relentless and had insisted he would just have to wear the thing because really, it was all for Maggie’s wedding.  
  
So, giving into the flimsy excuse, he had surrendered.  
  
And Rick had to admit, he was rather glad he had capitulated into their demands as he moved around in the damn thing.  It fit so snugly, yet so easily maneuverable, so pleasing in the way the material and stitching moved with him.  
  
This was why, no doubt, people paid the extra money for something so finely tailored and well made.  
  
Rick felt as if he were ready for a photo spread in the very pages of GQ magazine.  
  
“Where’s your sister?” Rick asked, as he continued to marvel at himself in the mirror.  
  
“Oh, you gotta see this,” Carl snickered.  “Daryl and Merle came over while you were getting ready,” he continued as they made their way out of the bedroom and into the living room where Rick stopped in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.  
  
For there stood Daryl.  
  
He was wearing a black, slim-cut tuxedo, same style as his suit, a silk lilac vest peeking out from within the jacket.  
  
“Whoa!” Rick whistled.  “Wow Daryl!”  
  
He looked good.  
  
And by ‘good,’ he meant gorgeous, charming, and Rick had to admit, extremely _sexy_.  
  
And why he was using those adjectives to describe his neighbor, his very _male_ neighbor, he wasn’t exactly sure.  
  
But then, Rick had never been the kind of man who denied how attractive his own gender could be to him, so when he had been confronted with someone, a male someone, who was pleasing to the eye in that way, he was by no means afraid to admit how much he appreciated the view.  
  
And he was really appreciating that very view right now.  
  
“Well you look good too,” Daryl said as he smiled at Rick before averting his eyes from his own appreciative scan, turning away and clearing his throat.  
  
“Great, you both look good,” Carl drawled, throwing each man an absurd look before rolling his eyes.  
  
All heads turned as one when Merle entered the room from the kids’ bedroom.  
  
He was wearing a black suit, cut wider than the other’s, and looked not at all like his usual unkempt self.  But what had really grabbed their attention was him holding Judith, outfitted in tulle, satin and ribbons, while the surly man held up one of the largest, most ornate bows Rick had _ever_ seen in his other hand.  “I can’t get this damn thing on!” the man groused as he frowned at the aforementioned bow.  
  
“What the hell is that?” Rick asked.  
  
“’S a bow,” Merle shrugged.  “Andrea told me to put it in her hair…cuz it matches her dress,” he said as he looked at the garish thing.  “Exactly what hair ‘m I supposed to attach it to?”  
  
Shaking his head clear, Rick walked over to Judith and grabbed his daughter, bouncing her on his hip.  “She ain’t got much hair for it to hold on to.  Don’t worry ‘bout it Merle.”  
  
“Thank fuck!” Merle sighed in obvious relief.  “Was about to get out the superglue.”  
  
“Merle!” Daryl, Carl and Rick yelled at the same time.  
  
“Just kidding.  ‘Sides,” Merle said, “gave it to what’s-his-face earlier.”  
  
“Alex?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Merle nodded.  
  
“You know who he meant when he said, ‘what’s-his-face?’” Rick asked quietly as he leaned into Daryl.  
  
“Damn fool can never remember his name.  Don’t know why,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
Rick thought it ironic that people tended to have a hard time remembering Alex’s name when the young man had no problem remembering everyone else’s.  
  
Then again, it was easy to remember everyone’s name when their name was ‘dude.’  
  
Everyone turned as one when there was a knock at the door.  
  
“Who can that be?” Rick asked as he went to answer the door.  “Shouldn’t everyone be meetin’ downstairs for the limo?”  
  
“We told everyone to meet at your place,” Merle said as he nodded.  
  
Rick laughed quietly to himself.  
  
Why was he not surprised?  
  
He answered the door, letting in a suave and well dressed Gareth, followed by an uncomfortable looking and fidgety Abraham and an extremely agitated Glenn.  They all looked quite lovely in their attire, despite their varying states of anxiety.  
  
Abraham and Gareth were dressed similarly to Daryl, only their vests were a lighter shade of lilac.  Glenn’s vest was a very pale ivory, no doubt meant to match Maggie’s dress.  
  
And how Rick hoped nothing had happened to the dress. 

She would already be walking down the aisle in a large, black top hat.  
  
If somehow the dress got mixed up with, say, a Big Bird costume, he was sure it wouldn’t matter what dress she would be wearing since Maggie would end up spending the rest of her wedding day in a straitjacket.  
  
“Wow!” Glenn whistled.  “We all look so nice!  Please tell me your vests all match the bridesmaids’ dresses,” the nervous groom pleaded.  “Even if they don’t, lie to me.”  
  
“Yes, me and Abe match Sasha and Rosita,” Gareth said as he put a comforting hand on Glenn’s shoulder.  “And no, I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”  
  
Glenn spun around to confront Daryl.  “I match Beth,” Daryl sighed.  “And I’d never just say somethin’ to make you feel better.”  
  
“Good, okay.  That’s good,” Glenn said as he tried to reassure himself everything was going smoothly at the moment.  He then turned quickly to Gareth.  “And everything’s set with the a cappella group, right?”  
  
“Yes, they’ll be there in time for when Maggie walks down the aisle,” Gareth reassured.  
  
“What’s their name again?” Glenn asked.  
  
“The Fantastic Four,” Gareth said as he smoothed down his sleeves, Abraham snickering behind him.  
  
“You sure this ain’t some cosplay, superhero group that does kiddie birthday parties?” Abraham asked.  
  
“Yes,” Gareth sighed.  “They did the last annual Starbuck’s Christmas party.  They were amazing.  And no,” he said as he noticed Glenn about to say something.  “They don’t dress up like superheros.  Then again, they were wearing Santa suits at the time, but hey.  It was Christmas.”  
  
“Okay, this is good,” Glenn mumbled, more to himself.   
  
“Just relax Glenn,” Gareth said calmly before turning to look at Rick.  “Rick!  Whoa!” he said with a smile as he strolled over to him, looking Rick up and down hungrily.  “That suit is… _wow_!”  
  
Despite the fact that he was wearing a suit that cost somewhere in the four digits, under Gareth’s leering appraisal, Rick felt completely and utterly naked.  
  
“You look good enough to eat,” Gareth smiled wickedly.  
  
And now not only did Rick feel naked, but also as if he were laid out on a plate, trussed and ready for the young man to devour his bare flesh.  
  
Rick was pretty sure he was blushing furiously at the moment.  
  
“Gareth,” Daryl growled.  “Stop embarrassin’ the man.”  
  
“Sorry,” Gareth said to Rick, not at all sounding contrite.  “You don’t look yummy whatsoever,” he finished as he looked at Daryl and rolled his eyes.  
  
“If Daryl there had them pyrotechnic powers like in the movies,” Abraham snickered as he addressed Gareth, “you’d be on fire like the Human Torch himself right now.”  
  
“That’s the second time someone’s talked about the Fantastic Four,” Glenn said agitatedly.  “Is there something I should know?!”  
  
“So, what’s the plan?” Gareth asked as he looked over at Glenn, obviously ignoring the elephant in the room.  
  
Of course, Rick wasn’t exactly sure what the elephant _was_ , but he knew one was there.   
  
“Tyreese got a limo for all of us so we could go to the prison in style.  Did that just come out of my mouth?” Glenn asked no one in particular.  “Anyway, it’s huge.  We can all fit in there.  All the girls've been at the prison for a couple of hours already.  Actually most of the building is already gone,” the groom continued to babble.  “Rick!  Please tell me you got hold of the nuns!”  
  
“I can’t believe _that_ just came out of your mouth,” Abraham laughed.  
  
“Yeah, we’re good to go,” Rick reassured.  “They even got their blues band to meet them there.  They’re real excited ‘bout the whole thing.  They don’t even care you guys ain’t Catholic.”  
  
“Great,” Glenn drawled.  “After they sing for us, they can tell us how we’re all going to hell.  Oh God!   This is happening,” he babbled.  “It’s not a dream, right?  It’s really happening?”  
  
“Yep,” Merle said.  “You been running ‘round being Maggie’s bitch for the past four years.  In a few hours, it’ll all be official-like.”  
  
“Thanks Merle.  Way to put it into perspective,” Glenn said as he nodded his head.  He jumped when the phone in his pocket rang out a cheery tune.  “Yeah?…It’s here?…Oh good.  We’ll be right down,” he said as he finished off the call and put the phone back into his pocket.  “Limo’s downstairs.”  
  
They all made their way to the windows along the wall, the ones looking down street-side.  
  
There was a limousine there alright.  
  
Or land yacht, since that description fit it better.  
  
The thing was long and white and looked like it could fit the entire Atlanta Falcons football team.  
  
“Okay, limo’s here,” Glenn said as he exhaled in relief.  “And it doesn’t seem to have a flat and the motor’s not smoking and it’s not parked on a sinkhole or something.”  
  
“Glenn!” Abe’s voice boomed, commanding the groom’s attention.  “It’s all gonna be fine.  There were some setbacks but the worst is over.  Nothing else could possibly go wrong.”  
  
“Did you have to say that?!” Glenn exclaimed, completely panic stricken.  “I can’t believe you just said that out loud.  Oh God.  You just jinxed us!”  
  
“Maybe we should get into the limo,” Gareth said as he indicated the apartment door.  
  
“Should I follow you guys in the limo,” Rick asked, still holding onto Judith, “or should I just google the directions?”  
  
“There’s plenty of room in the limo for you and the kids,” Glenn said.  “I mean, that’s why we were meeting here, right?  You said Rick should ride with us,” he said as he turned to Daryl, the man turning to look away while admiring the wallpaper behind him.  
  
“We get to ride in that?!” Carl exclaimed excitedly as he pointed in the general vicinity of downstairs.  “ _Sick!_ ”  
  
“That’s good, right?” Glenn asked, still ruffled.  
  
“It’s like you’ve completely forgotten everything,” Abraham drawled, while shaking his head.  
  
They all made their way out of the apartment, Rick being the last as he held onto Judith’s baby seat with one hand and locked the door with the other.  
  
Rick joined Daryl on the stairs as his neighbor was waiting for him to finish up while he held onto Judith.  
  
“This okay?” Daryl said.   
  
“It would’ve been hard to hold Judith _and_ her car seat _and_ lock the door Daryl,” Rick snickered.  “So yeah, ’s okay.”  
  
“No, I mean ‘bout riding in the limo,” Daryl said.  “Thought you’d like riding over with us.”  
  
“God, yeah!  That was so thoughtful Daryl,” Rick smiled.  
  
“It was pretty selfish really,” Daryl said quietly to Rick.  “You think I wanna be stuck in an enclosed space by myself with those asses, and Glenn with the way he is now?”  
  
“Point taken,” Rick laughed.  “She really likes you.”  
  
“She’s a charmer,” Daryl smiled as he looked at Rick intently.  “Must get it from your side.”  
  
“Aw, you don’t gotta say that,” Rick said bashfully.  “But thanks anyway.”  
  
Rick would have heard the small sigh coming from his neighbor but they soon found themselves outside, with the heavy mid-day Saturday traffic. 

Once settled into the spacious luxury sedan, the group set upon their journey for the prison and Glenn’s impending nuptials.  
  
The trip had been uneventful for the most part.  They all had some beers, courtesy of the limousine company and their compact refrigerated cooler, just to loosen them up a bit. 

Mainly it was meant to take the edge off Glenn’s anxiety.   
  
Daryl, knowing all too well how Glenn could not hold his liquor, even something as tame as domestic beer, had made sure that he had not imbibed too much, thereby not becoming impaired, tipsy or downright wasted.  
  
They had all become quite relaxed. 

At one point, Tyreese asked who Glenn would be marrying.  An exasperated (yet still far more calm) Glenn had replied ‘Maggie.’  Tyreese had said, ‘that was nice, but did the guy who was marrying Maggie today know that?’  to which everyone groaned and replied that _Glenn_ was the guy Maggie was marrying.  Tyreese had ended the conversation by asking, ‘does Maggie know?’  
  
Of course, had that been the only time the conversation occurred, no one would have bat an eye.  
  
The third time around though, the groomsmen had considered leaving the former football quarterback on the side of the road.   
  
Abraham had assured them they would come back for him later.  
  
It was at that time that Rick decided to offer a distraction to the never-ending conversation that was looping in on itself like a black hole in space and its consequent discussion of Tyreese’s abandonment.  
  
“You got the ring?” Rick asked innocently of Glenn.  
  
“No!” Glenn said hysterically, as he started checking his pockets.  “Oh God!  I don’t have the ring!”  
  
“Cuz I got the ring ass,” Daryl scoffed.  “‘Member?  Best man?  ’S right here,” Daryl said as he pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it up.  
  
Merle whistled, while everyone peered at the diamond closely.  “What jewelry store you done rob boy, to get a rock that size?” the gruff man exclaimed.  
  
“I’m with Merle on this one,” Abraham said.  “You’re just, like, a pizza delivery guy.”  
  
“I cut off the finger of this dead lady’s hand and stole her ring,” Glenn said in all seriousness and then looked at all the shocked faces around him.  “Pfft!  A joke guys!  _A joke_.  I’m allowed right now.”  
  
“Then how’d you afford that rock?” Merle asked.  
  
“Was wonderin’ the same thing,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“It was on one of my pizza runs,” Glenn sighed.  “I walked up to the door, heard all this fighting and arguing, knocked on the door, because you know, pizza delivery guy,” he said as he pointed to himself.  “Can’t exactly go back to the pizzeria with a pizza and tell my boss I didn’t wanna deliver the stupid thing because of a domestic dispute.  So I knocked and this lady answered.  She screamed at her husband, ‘here’s your goddamned pizza you fat fuck!  And here’s your tip,’ she screamed back at me.  She tore her ring off her finger and threw it at the pizza.  I fished the thing outta the sauce and dough and pepperoni…”  
  
“That why it smells like oregano?” Daryl said.  
  
“Yeah, and then I looked back at the woman and she said, ‘that’s right.  _Keep it!_ ’ and then the guy comes to the door and throws money for the pizza at me and I was trying to give the ring back to him but he looked me straight in the eyes, swear to God, right in the eyes, and said, ‘yeah, keep it.  The bitch doesn’t deserve it!’  He yelled that last part at his wife.  Or, soon to be ex-wife, I assume,” Glenn said as he finished his tale.  
  
“You never got a call back from the couple?” Rick asked incredulously.  “Wantin’ their ring back?”  
  
“Nope,” Glenn said as he lounged back against the soft leather seating.  “My boss told me to keep it.  You know, for Maggie.”  
  
“Oh look,” Gareth said as he looked out the window.  “We’re getting close.  Look at that sign.”  
  
Gareth was correct in his assumption when they saw the sign along the side of the road.  It read:  HITCHHIKERS MAY BE ESCAPING INMATES.  
  
“Holy Shit!  I’m getting married in a prison,” Glenn said in shock, as he took in the sign and shook his head.  “It’s real.  I need another beer.”  
  
“No!” all the men shouted, as they lunged forward, stopping the nervous groom from raiding the cooler.  
  
“We need you to say your vows, man,” Daryl said.  “Not _slur_ them.  As your best man, I can’t let you do that.”  
  
And this was why Glenn had picked Daryl to be his Best Man.  
  
Because Daryl _was_ the best man.  He was so thoughtful and considerate of others, all the time, thinking of their well being.  
  
A funny, fuzzy feeling inside Rick started to develop.  
  
That or it was the beer.  
  
“Thanks man,” Glenn mock-sobbed exaggeratedly, “you really got my best interest at heart.”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl muttered as he turned to Rick and whispered in his ear.  “Maggie’d kill me iffen I let him get all drunk before the wedding.”  
  
Rick smiled back at Daryl, that fuzzy feeling multiplying in on itself tenfold as the man had spoken in his ear with that deep, husky, whiskey-smooth voice of…  
  
“Dad?  You okay?” Carl asked as he leaned in and looked intently back at him.  
  
“Yeah ‘m fine.  Just...you know…too close proximity with this much formal wear and cologne,” Rick smiled, everyone laughing along with his joke.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” Carl said as he rolled his eyes, giving a side-long glance back at Merle who rolled his eyes as well.  
  
Rick didn’t have much time to reflect on the exchange when he saw the sign that stated they were now entering the gates of the Georgia State Correctional Facility.  
  
The marquee just a few feet away read:  
  
WELCOME ALL GUESTS CELEBRATING THE UNION OF GLENN RHEE AND MAGGIE GREENE.  
WE ARE NOW OPEN TO THE PULIC FOR ALL EVENTS.  ASK ABOUT OUR LOW RATES.  
  
“Did they have to advertise on there as well?” Glenn groaned.  “God, I hope they don’t give us bumper stickers that say something like, ‘We got married in a prison.  Ask us how.’”  
  
Rick took in the grounds as they drove up the drive and into the main parking area.  There were attendants pointing them the way to go.  As the limo moved along, he noticed the manicured lawns and the newly planted greenery and flowers.  
  
It was really quite spectacular.  
  
As long as one ignored the large, ominous, institutional building in the background.  
  
Or the guard towers flanking the corners, which had flowing swags and ribbons and flowers decking them at the moment.  
  
The visuals were striking and impressive on a somewhat massive scale, yet nevertheless somewhat foreboding.  
  
Caesar and his people had done an amazing amount of work to bring the grounds up to the level they needed them to be.  
  
“I can’t even,” Glenn said, completely in awe as he took in the sight of the grounds around him.  
  
“You seen one prison, you seen ‘em all,” Merle shrugged.  
  
“And you probably saw ‘em all,” Abraham said as he elbowed Merle in the side.  
  
They all exited the limo, Daryl and Gareth helping an unsteady Glenn out as well.  
  
Rick figured his unsteadiness was due less to alcohol and more with the fact that he was getting ready to say ‘I do.’  
  
“Where we even supposed to go?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Well, I was gonna show you guys the reception hall first, before I took you to the grove where the ceremony’ll take place,” a man said as he came around the corner.  
  
Rick knew that voice anywhere.  
  
“Martinez!” Rick exclaimed as he ran up to his old friend and crushed him in a warm embrace.  
  
“Grimes!  _Guero_!” Caesar replied as he returned the hug.  
  
“This is Caesar.  Caesar Martinez,” Rick said as his old friend had his arm still slung around his shoulders.  “The one responsible for you guys having a place to get married today.”  
  
There was a round of ‘good to meet you,’ and handshakes before Glenn walked up to the man.  
  
“I’m Glenn,” the groom said warily.  
  
“Oh!  _El Jefe!_ ” Caesar said boisterously as he shook hands with Glenn and slapped him on the back.  “I’ve met Maggie.  You're a very lucky man, my friend.”  
  
“I feel like throwing up,” Glenn said.  
  
“Ms. Greene said you’d say that,” Caesar nodded.  
  
“I think I need more beer,” Glenn continued.  
  
“She said you’d say that too,” Caesar snickered, as he steered Glenn in the other direction and started walking.  “Wait till you guys see what we’ve done with the building!”  
  
Caesar led the small group to the entrance of the first structure.    They made their way through a small entrance, also adorned with sweeping swags made of tulle and ribbons and more flowers, with a small podium in the corner for guests to sign in.  They passed through the alcove and into a grand hall.  
  
“Ain’t it something?” Caesar said as he looked all around him proudly.  
  
Rick looked around the hall, which the girls had told him used to be the cafeteria.  Long swags of diaphanous satin fabric interspersed with tulle, hung down from the center of the ceiling, gathering in the corners and then cascading down the walls, much like a circus tent in the big top.  He could barely make out the original walls through all the fabric.  The fluorescent lights were still on underneath all the fabric and gave off a soft glow, the lighting being helped along by thousands upon thousands of twinkly lights.  
  
Flowers, Cherokee Roses to be exact, were scattered throughout and the round tables, white chairs seated around them, were all perfectly set, the tablecloths all interchanging shades of lilac.  
  
A long table sat along one wall, no doubt where the wedding party would be seated, so everyone could look upon them.  
  
And next to that was a small circular table where a multi-tiered cake sat.  
  
“Oh thank God,” Glenn sighed.  “The cake is fine…and you know…not in pieces…or smashed on the side of the road…or transported on some starship and heading off into space.”  
  
“The cake’s fine, _el jefe_ ,” Caesar said as he patted Glenn on the back.  He turned to Rick and leaned in, “paranoid fuck, isn’t he?!”  
  
“It's…a long story,” Rick laughed.  
  
They all made their way to the cake and gazed upon it.  
  
There were no fancy rosettes or intricate piping.  It was just a simple pale lilac cake with a branch made of fondant and cherry blossoms piped along its bough, winding its way up the tiers, ending at the very top.  
  
Rick saw the cake topper that sat atop the cake and became quite angry.  
  
“Bunnies!” Rick sputtered.  “Okay, now this ain’t funny!”  
  
“It’s a beautiful cake, _guero_ ,” Caesar said, completely baffled, as everyone around him groaned.  
  
“Aww fuck, Rick,” Glenn said apologetically.  “We ordered the cake way before your… _thing_ with that guy.  Really, it’s not a joke.  It was the only topper Maggie and I would agree on.  She wanted this one where the bride was whipping the groom with a riding crop.”  
  
Rick looked at the offending cake topper with the bunnies wrapped around each other, a big cartoon heart on top of them.  
  
“Huh!  So _that’s_ a love bunny,” Merle said.  
  
“Shut the fuck up Merle!” Daryl groused.  
  
“You had some _thing_ with a guy _guero_?” Caesar asked quietly of Rick.  “Was it a one-time thing or a…”  
  
“It was a no-time thing!” Rick exclaimed.  “Can we drop it?  ‘Sides, at least it ain’t penguins!”  
  
“Oh yeah!”  Caesar said before laughing.  “I saw the video…”  
  
“Caesar!” Rick barked.  
  
“I suppose I shouldn’t bring up the memes then, huh?” his old friend quipped.  
  
Just then, Carol entered the main hall.  “Oh good!  You’re all here,” Carol said as she came up, looked at everyone, inspected Rick’s shaving job, gave an approving nod and adjusted Daryl’s bow-tie.  
  
“My damn tie’s fine woman,” Daryl grumbled.  
  
“You all look so nice.  Oh Glenn,” Carol smiled.  “Maggie looks so beautiful in her dress.”  
  
Glenn exhaled in relief once again.  “Okay we got the cake.  We got here on time.  I’m not drunk.  And Maggie has her dress.  How’s the hat look?”  
  
“It actually works with the dress,” Carol nodded.  
  
Well that was a relief.   
  
Maggie was most definitely _not_ repeating her vows dressed as Big Bird.  
  
“Has the a cappella group gotten here yet?” Carol asked.   
  
“No.  That’s what’s wrong,” Glenn moaned.  “The group isn’t here yet.”  
  
“Well we need them,” Carol admonished.  “The guests are all seated and the show’s about to begin.”  
  
“I’m getting married,” Glenn said.  “The show’s about to begin.  I forgot my lines.”  
  
“Repeat after me,” Abraham said as he grabbed hold of Glenn and looked him directly in the eyes.  “I.  Do.”  
  
“Not funny man!” Glenn exclaimed as he shook the large man off, Abraham laughing along with the others.  
  
“Dudes!” Alex exclaimed as he entered the hall through the same door as Carol’s.  
  
“The group Alex!”  Gareth said.  “Where are the group?”  
  
“I just saw them parking their Kia, dude.  Chill,” Alex said.  And no sooner had he told his brother to chill, his face took on a look of pure shock and terror.  “What the fuck is _she_ doing here Gareth?!”  
  
So Alex _did_ know his brother’s name.  
  
“Just fucking shoot me now,” Alex groaned before turning to Rick quickly.  “You’re a cop.  You got a gun.  Shoot me.  In the head.  It’s okay.  I’ll forgive you dude,” he babbled.  
  
Rick looked at where Alex was staring to see who it was that could have possibly rattled the young man, the man who could give Gandhi a lesson on being ‘chill,’ this badly.  
  
A striking woman, a bit older than everyone else, was walking toward them.  She had a suit, much like Carol’s, with a pencil skirt and fitted jacket on.  Her hair was short and blonde and the one word that came to mind that could possibly describe the woman Rick was gazing upon, was ‘ball-buster.’  
  
Also, she was hands down, the double image of the woman who played Tasha Yar in ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation.’  
  
“Uh, hey mom,” Gareth quavered as he waved timidly at his mother.  “So, you got invited too?”  
  
“Of course sweetie,” the woman said as she walked up to Gareth and air-kissed him on each of his cheeks.   
  
“She did help get Maggie her dress,” Carol informed the group as she smiled at the woman.  
  
“I was only too happy to help,” the woman said as she air-kissed Carol as well, each woman regarding the other carefully.  “Lovely suit Carol.”  
  
“I was about to say the same thing to you too, Mary,” Carol replied, a wide smile on her face.  
  
It was a scary exchange and Rick had to wonder what each woman had over the other.  
  
“Oh, Alex,” his mother said, “nice to see you too dear.”  
  
“What?  No weird fake kisses for me too?” Alex scoffed.  
  
“Be real careful of this woman,” Daryl whispered into Rick’s ear, Abraham and Glenn looking on.  “She’s a fuckin’ man-eater.”  
  
Rick was pretty sure Daryl wasn’t quoting the Hall and Oates song so he took a few steps back from the scary woman.  
  
“Why’d you do that?!” Abraham hissed.  “Now she’ll know you’re there!”  
  
“And who’s _this_ fresh piece of meat?” Mary chuckled sinisterly as she turned in the direction of Rick and Caesar, walking right into their personal space and walking her fingers up Rick’s shirt.  
  
“Jesus mom!” Gareth groaned.  “Way to not be creepy!”  
  
“Um…Rick.  Rick Grimes,” Rick sputtered, slowly backing away from Mary.  “I live…”  
  
“I know who you are!  Gareth was talking about you the other day,” Mary smiled.   
  
“Caesar!  Caesar Martinez,” Rick’s old friend said excitedly, and strangely enough, enthralled, as he jumped in front of him and shook hands with the creepy woman.  “I helped put this…thing together.”  
  
“Well you’ve done a lovely job,” Mary gushed as she turned to Carol.  “How’s the dress?”  
  
“Maggie looks breathtaking in it,” Carol said.  “It’s a Vera Wang you know,” she said as she addressed the rest of the men.  
  
“How did you pull that one off mom?” Gareth asked incredulously.  
  
“I have my connections dear,” Mary said as she waved him away.  
  
“Maggie’s got a Wang?” Alex said.  “Wow!”  
  
“Sorta always knew Maggie had a wang,” Merle chuckled.  
  
“Can we please stop talking about Maggie’s wang?!”  Glenn groused.  
  
“Wang envy,” Abraham snickered.  
  
“Can I get to the ceremony now!” Glenn shouted excitedly.  “You know, so I can fuck up my lines and make a total ass of myself?!”  
  
“Well,” Caesar said as he clapped his hands together.  “I’ll take you all down to the grove.”  Caesar held out his arm for Mary to take, which she did, and then held out his other for Carol to take, which she did and led them out of the hall.  
  
“So,” Rick said as he leaned in close to Daryl, “what happened to Gareth’s father?”  
  
“Not exactly sure,” Gareth said as he turned around, obviously having heard his whispering.  “But mom finally had him declared legally dead about five years ago.”  
  
What with the way Mary was such a fierce and imposing woman, Rick had an idea that nothing diabolical or sinister had befallen the man.  
  
He was probably just really good at hiding.  
  
And with that, they all made their way out to a thick copse of trees.  
  
“This was part of the prison?!” Daryl exclaimed.  
  
“No _guero_ ,” Caesar said as he shook his head. “It’s part of the property that was outside the fence.  It was so pretty, they thought it would be a good idea to make it part of the grounds.”

"Oh," Daryl muttered.  "And I ain't your _huevo_ neither."

Caesar chuckled as Rick smiled back at Daryl and leaned in, "you just told him you're not his ' _egg_.'"

Daryl rolled his eyes before smiling back at Rick.  "Well, I ain't that either."  
  
Rick looked around him at the people gathered on folding chairs, awaiting the nuptials.  
  
Five-hundred people had been a gross overestimation.  He figured there were maybe over two-hundred people.  Then again Maggie had said they had invited her entire hometown, but some people, no doubt, couldn’t clear their busy schedules to make time for the party.  
  
He hoped this would help take the stress out of the wedding for Maggie and Glenn.  
  
“Oh thank fuck!” Glenn said.  “I told Maggie not to worry about how many people were coming.”  
  
The grove was perfect for such an occasion as a wedding ceremony.  The trees intersected, making a natural canopy over the platform where the bride and groom would stand.  There were more flowers entwined with the tree boughs, and swags of tulle hung around the trees.  
  
The alcove looked truly enchanting.  
  
Maybe Rick could finally cut himself some slack and admit the prison had indeed, been the way to go.  
  
Rick saw the front two aisles filled with people from the apartment.  Tara was sitting with Eugene and the ‘governor’ was sitting next to Joe, who thankfully didn’t have the two models from earlier that morning with him.  Dale was there, seated next to Morgan and Duane, who Rick had met during the school week earlier.  Marty sat alone, the empty seat next to him probably saved for Alex.  Sophia sat with Lizzie and Mika, the girls holding a place for Tyreese and Carol, who made their way to their respective seats.  
  
Amy sat next to little Andre, which made Rick wonder where her sister and Michonne had wandered off to.  
  
And no sooner had he thought that, then those very two women came storming down the aisle.  
  
“There you guys are!” Andrea shrieked.  “It’s almost time.  You guys need to get up front.  _Now!_ ”  
  
“Where’s the group?” Glenn hissed.  “I’m not getting up there until I see the group that’ll be singing the…”  
  
“Oh dude!  There they are… _whoa_ ,” Alex said with a frown.  “Well, that’s them.  But they’re…um, Gareth?”  
  
“What the fuck?!” Gareth stammered.  
  
“Oh, you’re shitting me,” Abraham groaned.  
  
What the fuck indeed.  
  
For there stood the group, supposedly the Fantastic Four.  
  
But it wasn’t tuxedos, or even cheap suits they were attired in.  
  
And they certainly weren’t dressed as superheros.  
  
All four men were wearing Santa suits.  
  
Rick turned as he heard the sound of several people pulling out their smartphones, clicking away at the spectacle the group made.  
  
“Why are there four Santa Clauses at my wedding, Gareth?!” Glenn screamed.  
  
“You think I know?  I don’t know!” Gareth sputtered.  
  
“It’s the same shit they were wearing at the party!” Alex yelled back.  
  
Just then a small, older Korean woman walked up to the group.  She spoke to Glenn quietly and urgently in what Rick could only surmise was Korean, while Glenn listened respectfully.  
  
“That’s his grandmother,” Daryl said to Rick.  
  
“I’m sorry _Halmoni_ ,” Glenn said and then walked away to meet up with the group.  “Gareth, Alex, Daryl, Rick.  You guys come with me,” he said as he made his way to the a cappella group.  
  
Rick understood Daryl, Alex and Gareth, but why him?  
  
“Your grandma asked you what was up?” Daryl asked Glenn.  
  
“No, she was telling me to _chill_ ,” Glenn huffed.  “She has this way of making me feel like I’m four years old again.  I swear.”  
  
They made their way to the singing group and stood in front of them.  
  
“Uh, hi.  We’re looking for Glenn Rhee,” the first Santa said, a tall, thin man wearing a pair of hipster glasses.  
  
“I’m Glenn,” the agitated groom replied, looking like he was ready to start throwing punches at the group.  
  
Rick sure hoped it wouldn’t get to that.  
  
He didn’t trust Alex to not video tape the entire thing and have it go viral.  
  
Rick could almost see the YouTube title:  CRAZED GROOM KICKS SHIT OUT OF SANTA CLAUSES ON WEDDING DAY.  RUINS CHRISTMAS.  
  
And Rick didn’t even want to think about the memes that would be circulating.  Something like a still of Glenn yelling at the Santas with a caption that read, NONE OF YOU EXIST!   
  
“Hey guys.  So what do you want us to sing first?” the man who Rick presumed to be their leader asked Glenn.  
  
“Why are you guys dressed like Santas?” Glenn asked, obviously trying his best to maintain his temper.  
  
“Well, we figured you knew our schtick,” one of the shorter men of the quartet shrugged.  
  
“What _schtick_?” Gareth asked.  
  
“You know.  We’re the Santastic Four.  We sing…you know…Christmas carols!” another one of them said, an African American.  “Well, we put our own spin on them…”  
  
“ _Santastic_ Four?!”  Gareth sputtered.  “ _Santastic_ Four?!”  
  
“Yeah,” the last of the group said as he rubbed the back of his head.  “We kept trying to correct you over the phone…”  
  
“So you knew I thought you were the Fantastic Four!” Gareth yelled at them.  
  
“Well, yeah,” the leader said as he continued to fidget.  “But I figured you were only off by one consonant…”  
  
“Dudes, that’s a pretty important consonant,” Alex huffed.  
  
“Oh and the _Fantastic_ Four isn’t weird?” the African American said.  “I mean, really.  Superheros?!”  
  
“And Santas at a wedding isn’t weird?!” Gareth sneered.  “Do you even know the wedding march?!  You know, the song you’re gonna have to sing in five minutes!”  
  
“The wedding march? Pfft!” the shorter one scoffed.  “Like the back of our hand.  How does that…start…again?” he winced.  
  
“You know Santa dudes,” Alex said.  “Here comes…”  
  
“Oh!  Oh!” the leader exclaimed as he jumped up.  “We know that one.  We’ve done that one thousands of times.”  
  
“So you can sing that when my fiancé walks down the aisle,” Glenn said.  “The woman who can kill me easily in my sleep.”  
  
“Fuck yeah!” the shortest one said.  
  
“So…where do you want us to set up?” the leader asked.  
  
“How ‘bout behind a curtain so the bride can’t see your red covered ass when she walks down that aisle!” Daryl snarled.  
  
“Aw, someone doesn’t have the Christmas spirit,” the fourth in the group mused.  
  
“It’s not fucking Christmas!” Gareth shouted, alerting everyone sitting in the chairs to the altercation.  “Sorry!” Gareth said to all the wedding guests while waving his hands.  “I actually _love_ Christmas.”  
  
“Maybe they can change back into their clothes,” Rick said.  
  
“Can’t,” the leader said as he shook his head sadly.  “We wore these over here.”  
  
“Really?” Merle said.  “Ain’t that shit itchy?”  
  
“Actually, they’re really quite comfortable and cozy,” the leader said.  
  
Rick wondered if their suits were made by Armani as well.  
  
“There’s no time for that!” Andrea wailed as she ran up to the group.  “We have to start now!  The girls are in position!”  
  
Looking down at the end of the aisle, Rick could see Sasha and Rosita, dressed in long, flowing Grecian-style gowns, the same shade of lilac as Abraham and Gareth’s vests.  The two layers on the dress that criss-crossed over their shoulders flowed behind them like a train.   
  
They looked beautiful.  
  
Rick watched as Gareth led the group to where they needed to stand as Glenn, Daryl and Abraham made their way to the alcove.   
  
“You’re sitting with us Rick,” Michonne cooed as she led Rick by the arm, Andrea grabbing his other and steering him to their seats in the front.  
  
They sat him down with a heavy thud, Carl sitting down next to him with Judith on his lap and Merle next to Carl.  
  
Michonne kept patting his arm.  “I knew I was right to pick out this suit.  It looks exquisite on you!”  
  
Rick looked over at Carl, who seemed to be snickering to himself.  “What?”  
  
“Nothing,” Carl continued to smirk.  Both men turned when they saw Sophia trying to get Carl’s attention.  
  
Rick raised an eyebrow at Carl, who promptly turned away and frowned.  “Maybe it runs in the family,” Rick smirked.  
  
The woman playing the harp in front continued to play as first Sasha walked down the aisle, closely followed by Rosita. 

All eyes turned to the last bridesmaid, specifically the Maid of Honor and the bride’s sister, Beth.  
  
Her dress was the same style as the others only it was the same dark shade as Daryl’s vest.  She walked down the aisle, a poised woman, not the giggly schoolgirl who had an inappropriate crush on a man far older than her.  
  
When she passed by Rick, she looked over and smiled widely, giving him her best doe-eyed expression.  
  
Okay, so still a schoolgirl with an inappropriate crush but a very _poised_ one.  
  
Carol had walked up to the harpist and the music stopped.  She then made her way to the group and whispered to them.  
  
Everyone turned as one and stood when they could see Maggie and her father, Hershel, at the end of the aisle, making their way forward.  
  
Maggie’s dress, presumably a Vera Wang, was indeed stunning.  
  
It had a full ball gown skirt, made up of hundreds of tulle ruffles, all softly falling onto each other.  The bodice was fitted and had two halter straps holding it up.  It was a modern take on the Southern Belle.  
  
And there on her head was Joe’s large, black hat, her veil having been altered so it flowed out the back, and the wreath of flowers that were to adorn her head encircled the brim.  
  
It was a beautiful moment, especially when Glenn beheld his intended and gasped at how breathtaking she looked.  
  
And then the Santastic Four went into their rendition of ‘Here Comes the Bride.’  
  
Only that wasn’t the song that came out.  
  
Well, really, what did anyone expect from a group that made their living singing nothing but Christmas carols?  
  
For as soon as Maggie started walking down the aisle, a huge smile adorning her face, so happy to finally be marrying the man she truly loved, with her father there by her side, walking with his beautiful daughter and proud as any father had the right to be, the group started singing ‘Here Comes Santa Claus.’  
  
Of course, it was in perfect four-point harmony and Rick truly thought they were amazing, but that wasn’t the point.  
  
And when they belted out the next line, ‘Right down Santa Claus lane,’ Maggie’s eyes were focused with deadly intent on the four Santas, right along with everyone else under that copse of trees and Hershel had his meltdown.  
  
“What in the sam hell?!” Hershel muttered angrily.  “This is all that little  fuck Alex’s fault!  It was him, wasn’t it?  For the last God damned time, I am _not_ Santa!” the old man shouted at the top of his lungs.  
  
“Herhsel!” Patricia, who happened to be sitting in the front, admonished.  “You’re in God’s house now!”  
  
“I ain’t in God’s house!” Hershel groused.  “I’m in a god-damned prison!”  
  
“Daddy,” Maggie chided.  “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for this.”  
  
“Yeah and he’s sittin’ over there,” Hershel groused as he looked directly at Alex, the young man trying hard to disappear into his seat.  
  
Rick knew how the man felt.   
  
He remembered the top of the wedding cake with those vulgar cartoon bunnies.  
  
Rick watched as Maggie and Hershel composed themselves and continued to make their way down the aisle, trying in vain to keep in time with the jaunty Christmas tune.  
  
At first their progression was marked with dour faces, until Maggie tried really hard not to crack a smile, which backfired when she started giggling, Hershel shaking only slightly as he too started to see the humor in the whole mess.   
  
Maggie raised her bouquet to hide her laughing, while Hershel kept his head down slightly to mask his.  
  
And it seemed to be infectious as the rest of the people, including the wedding party, started to chuckle.  
  
It gave new meaning to the phrase, ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.’  
  
Rick snuck a look over at Glenn’s _halmoni_ , who seemed to be dancing in place to the sprightly holiday song.  
  
“Fucking wild, man,” Carl snickered.  
  
“Carl,” Rick admonished.  “Language.”  
  
“It ain’t the house of the Lord, dad.  It’s a prison,” Carl smirked.  
  
“Don’t see what all the fuss ’s about,” Merle grumbled.  “It’s a great song.”  
  
Maggie and Hershel made their way up to the altar, Hershel kissing his daughter, then ‘giving her away’ to Glenn.  
  
And with that Gareth moved his index finger across his throat, signaling the group to end their song, which in retrospect, seemed like it had been the _longest_ rendition of ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ Rick had ever heard.  
  
Rick sat quietly as the reverend spoke to the group of people and introduced Glenn and Maggie.  He gave a small sermon before he asked the couple to start exchanging their vows, which they did, Glenn fumbling through his while Maggie recited hers perfectly, word for word.  
  
He took a moment to remember the time he and Lori had gotten married.  They were both so young.  He was fresh out of the Sheriff’s Academy while she had just finished a few classes in community college, not really knowing what direction she wanted to go.  
  
Rick sometimes wondered if that had been the problem all along.  
  
Lori had picked him because she didn’t know what she really wanted to do in life and he seemed convenient.  
  
He couldn’t fault her too much though.   
  
In hindsight, it wasn’t so bad.   
  
They had two amazing children and memories of a marriage that at times, had its moments of happiness.  
  
It was while they were exchanging their rather verbose vows, that Daryl looked back over his shoulder and smiled at Rick.  
  
It was so quick that most people had probably missed it, but Rick hadn’t.  
  
Rick and Lori had had a nice life together, but it was time for them to move on.  
  
For _him_ to move on.  
  
And he couldn’t imagine a crazier, more warm-hearted group of people, Daryl at the heart of it all, to move on with.  
  
The reverend called for the rings, a terrified Glenn shuffling through his pockets maniacally again, before Daryl tapped him on the shoulder and gave him the ring.  
  
Glenn placed the ring on a delighted Maggie, who admired the expensive bauble.  She then sniffed the air around her trying to place the particular odor.  
  
The next time they ordered a double pepperoni pizza, it would hit her.  
  
The reverend then turned the newly married couple to the audience and introduced them as ‘Mr. and Mrs. Glenn Rhee.’  
  
Everyone cheered and clapped, a true standing ovation, a smiling Glenn and ecstatic Maggie glowing brightly before one and all.  They jumped down off the platform and made their way down the aisle, while the Santastic Four broke out into a rousing chorus of ‘Jingle Bells.’   
  
Rick watched as the next couple that walked down the aisle was an exuberant Beth and an aloof Daryl, the latter being dragged along by the former, followed by Rosita and Abraham and then Gareth and Sasha.  
  
Once most of the crowd made their way out of the grove, Rick hoisted Judith up on his hip, the rest of his row making their way down the aisle and back into the reception hall, formerly known as the prison cafeteria.  
  
“So…is the food here yet?” Rick grimaced.  
  
“Man, do you ever _not_ think about food?” Michonne asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.  
  
“’S not that,” Rick shrugged.  “Just, Glenn was so worried ‘bout everything.”  
  
“Oh, the food’s here alright,” Carol nodded as she joined the small group, an exasperated look gracing her face.  She leaned in and tickled Judith under her chin.  
  
“That doesn’t sound ominous whatsoever,” Andrea drawled.  
  
“You have to remember the kind of caterers someone like Tyreese would know from his stadium days,” Carol said as she rolled her eyes.  “I mean, it beats giving everyone pizza I guess, or popcorn and chips.  But I don’t really wanna be there when Maggie finds out.”  
  
“You’re not gonna tell us, are you?” Rick smirked.  
  
“I just wanna see the look on all your faces,” Carol said playfully.   
  
“Too bad I’m not like Gareth’s mom and able to pull a Wang outta my ass,” Rick scoffed, as he stopped mid-stride, everyone else doing the same, as he realized what he had just said.  
  
And the prize for the most inane thing said for the day would most assuredly go to him.  
  
Sometimes he really needed to keep his mouth shut.  
  
“Okay,” Michonne said as she looked directly at Rick.  “None of us will ever repeat what he just said.  Agreed?  Seriously, not one word.”  
  
“Agreed,” Andrea and Carol said.  
  
Just then, Andrea’s cell phone started ringing.  “Hold up,” she said as she looked at her phone and frowned.  “It’s the dance troupe.”  
  
It was, no doubt, more bad news.  
  
Like the group riverdanced right into that sinkhole Glenn had been talking about.  
  
“Yeah,” Andrea said as she nodded her head.  “No, no, no.”  She held the phone away and looked at the small group.  “They said they double-booked today and it would have been fine but now they have to travel further to get to the new venue.”  
  
Andrea got on the phone again.  “No, you will be here…no buts…okay, well why didn’t you just say so in the first place?  Just come…yes…just come in their make-up.  Whatever…I don’t even care what kind of make-up…just get here…okay.  Bye.”  
  
“Sweetie?” Michonne asked delicately.  “They’re still coming, right?”  
  
“They’re still coming,” Andrea exhaled, followed by everyone else exhaling.  “They just said they’ll be rushed so they have to put their make-up on _now_ for their gig _after_ the wedding.  So they’ll just show up in make-up.  Pfft!” Andrea chuckled.  “Seriously, like that was some kind of problem,” she shrugged.  
  
“That’s a relief,” Carol said.  “Now, that’s outta the way,” she said as she turned to Rick.  “I hope you don’t think you’re gonna be stingy with that little girl today mister.”  
  
Andrea and Michonne turned to glare at him as well.  
  
He knew when he was outnumbered.   
  
Rick held Judith out at arms length.  “Wouldn’t dream of it ladies,” he smiled.  
  
Everyone chuckled as Andrea took the baby first and started playing with her fingers as they entered the reception hall.  
  
The wedding party was not there yet, as they were all having their photos taken by the wedding photographer on the grounds, probably back by the grove.  
  
“Oh look at you too!” Andrea cooed as she approached Tara and Eugene.  “You’re both so adorable together.”  
  
“We’re each other’s beard,” Tara drawled as she slung her arm around Eugene.  
  
Rick leaned over to Michonne and whispered.  “I get why he’s her beard, but why is she _his?_ ”  
  
“To make it look like the boy is getting sex,” Michonne shrugged.  “Look at him.  Sixty percent of the human body is made up of water.  Eugene is sixty percent _marshmallow_.  And don’t even get me started on that hair.”  
  
Rick, Michonne and Andrea made their way to the area where the food was to be served.  
  
“Oh!  You have got to be kidding me!” Andrea choked as she took in the scene.  “Maggie’s going to go _ballistic_.”  
  
Rick surveyed the spread.  
  
Well, he had to give Tyreese credit for knowing a caterer who could most definitely handle a crowd this size.  
  
There was no question, no doubt about it whatsoever.  
  
However, he was still just a hot dog vendor.  
  
The caterer Tyreese had gotten for Maggie’s big day was the football stadium’s main hot dog vendor.  
  
And although there were other choices besides all beef hot dogs, like polish dogs and bratwurst, it was still a hot dog at the end of the day.  
  
A filled meat product that came wrapped up in a bun.  
  
“Maybe we should get Maggie real drunk,” Rick said.  “And I don’t mean slightly buzzed.  But like totally plastered.”  
  
“Tried that once,” Michonne huffed.  “Damn Irish wench drank me under the table.”  
  
They all looked at tonight’s menu once again.  
  
“Great, ain’t it?” Tara jeered as she walked up to the group and slung her arm around Rick.  “I mean normally I’d be all, ‘Yay.  That’s awesome.  Normal food.’  But come on.  A wedding?!  Oh hey,” she said as her attention became diverted elsewhere.  “Is that a Starbuck’s cart over there?”  
  
The group turned their heads as one when they noticed the retro coffee cart, complete with an espresso machine and several bottles of syrup, all under a green canopy.  
  
“Yeah, that’s me and Alex’s and Gareth’s, well, mostly Gareth’s, wedding gift to Maggie and Glenn.  We may not have gotten them an open bar, like Tyreese did,” Marty said, “but we got them never ending coffee, which’ll come in real handy after everyone’s gotten their drink on from the bar.”  
  
“Oh I take back anything I’ve ever said about you two,” Andrea said as her and Michonne ran to the cart.  
  
“So Tyreese paid for the open bar?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, which might make up for the weenie roast,” Mart snickered.  
  
Just then, the Santastic Four passed in front of them, singing ‘Deck the Halls.’  Both men watched them sing for a bit, then the group moved along.  
  
“I feel like I should be saying, ‘Merry Christmas!’” Rick chuckled.  
  
Morgan walked up to the cart, looked around it, then came up behind Rick, grabbing onto him and whisking him away.  
  
“Morgan,” Rick nodded.  
  
“Commissioner,” Morgan said back.  
  
“No Morgan, I’m not,” Rick started.  
  
“I know.  I know.  You have to keep a low profile,” Morgan whispered urgently.  “But keep an eye on that Starbuck’s cart.  The Riddler and his men are crafty.  Putting in something that one out of three people nationwide drink the most of.  It’s a clever ruse.”  
  
“It’s coffee,” Rick stated.  “They mix it with milk and syrup and top it all off with whipped cream.”  
  
“Just be careful,” Morgan said as he peered around him.  “I’m gonna blend into the shadows becoming invisible,” he said as he slinked away and stood against a beam next to the cart.  
  
“I can still see you!” Rick shouted after him.  
  
“Rick!” Beth squealed as she ran up to him and jumped in his arms, taking him completely by surprise.  “You look so pretty today!”  
  
She gave him a small, innocent kiss on his cheek.  
  
He knew there was a porn movie somewhere for this scenario but fuck if he could think of one now what with everything going on around him.  
  
“Bethy!” Hershel scolded as he walked up to the pair.  “Get down off that poor man!”  
  
“Yes daddy,” Beth pouted as she extricated herself.  
  
“Now you run on,” her father said.  
  
Rick watched as Beth made her way over to the bridal table, Maggie and Glenn still no where in sight.  
  
“Sorry ‘bout that,” a flushed Rick apologized.  
  
“Pfft!” Hershel said as he waved Rick’s qualms away.  “I know what she’s like.  She’s young.  Gotta jump on everything with a canoodle.”  
  
“Yeah, I got a son myself,” Rick said.  
  
“How old’s your boy?” Hershel asked.  
  
“Thirteen,” Rick replied.  
  
“Oh, that’s a rough age,” Hershel said as he shook his head.  “Boy that age starts thinking with his canoodle all the time.”  
  
Rick wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about Carl’s _canoodle_ with anyone, let alone the kind, yet very strange, old man.  
  
Just then, the Santastic Four made their way up to Rick and Hershel.  
  
“Oh for fuck sake!” Hershel growled and walked away.  
  
Well, that was fortuitous.  
  
The singing Santas happened to be performing ‘We Three Kings of Orient Are’ but in a more jazzy style.  
  
He knew that it had been a complete screw up on everybody’s part;  Gareth’s for not making sure the group did weddings and the group for indirectly, or worse yet, _directly_ , misleading them, but for whatever it was worth, Rick really did enjoy listening to them.  
  
Even if the Christmas carols were totally inappropriate at a wedding.  
  
He even pretended to have to be in the vicinity when they started their rendition of ‘Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer,’ a distinct Motown sound about them.  
  
“These guys are amazing!” Rick said enthusiastically as he clapped his hands, acknowledging a flustered Daryl walking up to him.  
  
“Rudolph!  At a wedding,” Daryl scoffed.  
  
“All the picture takin’ over with now?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah.  God!  Talk about hell.  Forget what I said ‘bout Starbucks.  Posing for them damn wedding photos is the ninth ring of hell.  ‘Move this way.  Now move that way,’” Daryl sneered, obviously mocking the instructions he had been given by the wedding photographer.  “We all gave the finger at one point,” he chuckled.  
  
“Yeah, well, speaking of Starbucks,” Rick winced as he looked over at the coffee cart, where people were getting lattes and mochas, it being busier than the open bar itself.  
  
“Aw hell, no,” Daryl muttered.  “Still, might be a good idea after everyone’s gotten all sloshed from the open bar.”  
  
And there they go, their thoughts synchronizing with each other again.  
  
“So?  Where’s the damn food.  ‘M starving,” Daryl said.  “Posing for photos takes a lot outta you.  Wonder how them models do it.  They don’t look like they ever eat…”  
  
“Um,” Rick stammered.  “Whaddya think of hot dogs?”  
  
“Can’t stand the shit!”  Daryl started then stopped when it hit.  “Oh fuck no!  Fucking coffee cart and now a _hot dog cart_?  You gotta be shitting me.  Fuck, does Maggie know yet?”  
  
And as if Glenn's ears were turning red, the groom himself came running up to them.  
  
“Guys!” Glenn said as he ran up to Rick and Daryl, completely frantic and out of breath, “it’s Maggie.  I need help.  She’s hyperventilating.”  
  
“Didn’t like the idea of the hot dogs, did she?” Rick winced.  
  
“What do I do?” Glenn pleaded.  
  
“We ain’t doctors!” Daryl muttered.  “Get a paper bag and put it over her head.  Take that damn hat off first though.”  
  
Glenn looked over to where Maggie sat in her chair, gesturing her arms in the air wildly while swearing.  “Actually, I think she’s past the panic stage.  She looks like she’s in the ‘head about to rotate while she vomits green soup’ stage.”  
  
“Too late for a bag,” Daryl chuckled.  “Better get a priest.”  
  
“Guys!  Help me here!” Glenn continued to plead.  
  
All three men walked over to where Maggie was seated at the bridal table.  She was no longer waving her hands about wildly but sitting in her chair, staring out blankly.  
  
Apparently Maggie had gone through the various stages associated with finding out what menu would be served at their wedding when they decided it would be a good idea to trust a former quarterback for a pro football team who had brain damage with the catering.  
  
First was the blind panic, which she already covered with the hyperventilating, which then morphed into the possessed stage, which luckily he and Daryl had missed and led her smack dab into the middle of the acceptance stage, which in this case, was Maggie being completely and utterly comatose.  
  
Daryl waved his hand in front of the woman’s face several times.  
  
Of course, she wasn’t completely gone, as she continued to mumble incoherently under her breath.  
  
“Maggie!” Daryl barked.  “Them just hot dogs.  Snap out of it!”  
  
“That’s your great help?” Glenn snapped.  “I could’ve gotten Merle for that!”  
  
Rick bent down in front of the distraught bride as he remembered his police training.  
  
Then again, his police training made it so he could help people who had experienced something truly traumatic.  
  
Not because of imitation meat products.  
  
“Did you see the coffee cart Maggie?” Rick asked quietly as Michonne and Andrea continued to fan the bride.  
  
“Coffee?” Maggie quipped. She poked her head up, a hopeful look upon her face.  “Like…real coffee…made from coffee beans?”  
  
Rick had to tread carefully and not be his usual flippant self and say something like, ‘no, pinto beans’ or something asinine.  
  
“Yep. It’s real coffee,” Rick whispered gently.  “In fact, it’s Starbucks.  You think them Starbuck’s folks would put their name on just anything?” he smiled.  
  
“Starbucks’ good,” Maggie said, a petulant pout gracing her lips.  
  
Oh dear God.  
  
Now they were reverting to caveman speak.   
  
Coffee, good.  Hot Dogs, bad.  
  
“And there’s still the open bar!” Daryl said as he snapped his fingers and pointed to the stunned bride.  
  
“Oh!  Oh!  And the bartender knows how to make the best Long Island Iced Tea,” Sasha said, egging Maggie into a better mood.  
  
“And it’s not exactly all hot dogs,” Carol said.  “I mean, there’s bratwurst and…”  
  
“I like bratwurst,” Maggie said as she looked up fully at everybody, biting her lip.  “And coffee.  I like coffee better.”  
  
“See Mags?” Glenn said as he took over from Rick.  “It’s not so bad.  Look,” he said as he pointed to some of the guests.  “Half the people are lined up and the other half are already eating and they’re certainly not complaining.”  
  
And they were.  
  
If the guests weren’t in line waiting for their food, while talking to each other animatedly about the wedding and how it was held in a prison, or the singing Santa Clauses, or the bride’s beautiful dress and cool top hat, they were eating.  
  
And while they were eating, some were sitting at their tables and talking lively with other guests and some were standing, gathered in groups.  The freedom the bun-wrapped sausages allowed people, gave them incentive to mingle with all the other guests.  
  
“Look Maggie,” Andrea said.  “They’re not stuck at tables waiting for their food to be delivered to them.  They seem to be pretty happy.  They’re enjoying themselves.”  
  
“They are, aren’t they?” Maggie said as she stood up.  “Guess it’s not that bad,” she said with a hopeful smile.  “They got sauerkraut?”  
  
“Pfft!  Now what self-respecting hot dog vendor wouldn’t have sauerkraut?” Michonne said.  “I’m gonna go get the bride a bratwurst loaded with sauerkraut right now!”  
  
“Don’t forget the mustard!” Maggie called out, before bursting out into giggles.  “I’m eating a bratwurst at my own wedding!”  
  
Just then Hershel walked by, biting into a Chicago dog.  “Oh man honey.  This is the best damn food I ate at a wedding… _ever_!” he said.  The a cappella group moved in behind Hershel and kept singing their rendition of ‘Good King Wenceslas,’ the older man scowling at the group.  “Damn red devils!  For the last time, leave me the fuck alone!”   
  
Hershel rushed away quickly as the group continued to follow him.  
  
The Santastic Four obviously had a death wish.  
  
Still, they were singing the song better than Rick had ever heard it before.  
  
Rick walked away, Daryl following.  “Still really damn hungry and I don’t know ‘bout hot dogs,” Daryl huffed.  
  
“I hear the bratwurst is pretty good,” Rick said in a sing-song voice.  “Come on.  Remember?  Modeling is hard work.”  
  
They made their way to the line, where they each procured a smoked to perfection sausage, loaded down with grilled onions and mustard and made their way back to Rick’s table, Daryl deciding to forego the bride’s table.  They sat down with Merle, who was bouncing Judith on his knee while feeding her bits of hot dog, and navigating his own Chicago dog.  Carl was sitting there as well, Sophia having joined them at some point, the two pre-teens talking animatedly with each other while they ate their simple hot dogs.  
  
“I thought we were gonna eat some dry chicken or fish, like we usually do at weddings,” Carl said as he wrinkled his nose.  “This is awesome.”  
  
Rick smiled at his son, who seemed to be happy and making friends with Carol’s daughter, and Judith, who loved all the attention she was getting.  
  
And with that, Rick picked up his bratwurst and took a hearty bite, moaning around the mouthful of the savory blend of flavors, which was strangely enough, closely followed by another groan, that was most assuredly _not_ coming from him.  
  
Rick looked up and at Daryl, who was looking at him rather yearningly and wistfully.  
  
He looked down at his bratwurst and then at Daryl’s.  
  
They seemed to be the same so Rick was a bit confused as to why Daryl was coveting his instead.  
  
“Is yours okay?” Rick asked Daryl innocently.  
  
“It’s fine,” Daryl said with a slightly strangled voice, then cleared his throat.  “It’s fine.”  
  
And then Daryl muttered something to himself under his breath, readjusted himself in his seat and continued with his meal, Rick having decided he would keep his appreciation for his food to himself in deference to his neighbor and new found friend.  
  
AS they continued to eat, Rick and Daryl talked about everything at the table.  
  
They talked about the guests at the wedding.  
  
They talked about Rick’s work.

They talked about Daryl's favorite hunting trip.  
  
Merle and the kids had joined in their conversation at some point, along with Michonne, Andrea, her sister and Sasha, who sat at the table as well, and they started gossiping about some of the various events happening around them.  
  
They were eating (Rick wasn’t sure at that point how many of the bratwurst they had actually consumed) and were drinking, the beer and coffee flowing very freely and enjoying their exchanges, that they were all surprised when an hour had passed.  
  
In fact, everyone was enjoying themselves immensely what with the celebratory atmosphere that no one had paid much attention to the time.  
  
And then Hershel got up to make an announcement.  
  
“Now, I ain’t gonna come up here and give that old cliche speech every father of the bride gives,” Hershel boasted.  “You know, ’bout how I ain’t losin’ a daughter, I’m gaining a son!  But, I just did and I am, so there you go.  Speech is over.”  
  
Everyone clapped while many cheers and wolf whistles could be heard.  
  
The Santastic Four started singing, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”  
  
“Now you fucking stop that!” Hershel barked.  “‘Sides, I ain’t done.  Now you all know ‘bout these people, a dance troupe, called Riverdance.  What most people don’t know is its roots go back to Ireland.  It’s a combination of time dance and folk dancing and the good old fashioned jig…”  
  
“For a guy who said he ain’t gonna give a speech, you sure are one long-winded old fart!” came a voice out of the audience.  
  
“Don’t think I can’t see you Philip!” Hershel said as he pointed reproachfully into the crowd.  “Okay, so here’s Georgia’s own Not-Quite-Riverdance Dance Troupe doing a really fancy Irish jig!”  
  
Everyone clapped and cheered, their eyes focused on the empty dance floor.  
  
Rick had never actually seen _true_ folk dancing before so now he was very curious.  
  
The group made it ways out on to the floor, all fifteen of them, lined up the same way you would rack up billiard balls.  
  
The clapping stopped suddenly, and was followed by whispering and murmuring that escalated quickly through the crowd.  
  
“What the fuck?” Hershel said as he stopped clapping.  
  
For a brief moment, there was complete and utter silence in the hall.  
  
Then the happy music started and the dancers started to perform their ‘really fancy Irish jig.’  
  
They were all perfectly in sync with each other.  
  
They twirled in time with the music and each other.  
  
When it was called to leap in the air, they all did so together.  
  
It was _beautiful._  
  
Such a perfect ballet of motion and leg work.  
  
And the addition of old Irish folk music that had a modern tempo added to it completed it all.  
  
The words ‘amazing’ and ‘brilliant’ were not enough to describe the superb performance that was on display for all the guests and wedding party to see.  
  
There was just one problem.  
  
A gross one, to be exact.  
  
“Dude!”  Alex called out.  “It’s like a Thriller video!”  
  
Despite any annoyance Rick may have had with the young man, he couldn’t possibly have put it anymore succinctly.  
  
For there they all were, all fifteen of Georgia’s own Not-Quite-Riverdance Dance Troupe, dressed as, of all things, _zombies_.  
  
And not just zombies who were outfitted in merely ragged clothing with some grease paint on their face to make them look like the undead.  
  
Oh, no.  
  
But actual, gore-encrusted, blood-oozing, exposed flesh-and-bone zombies.  
  
Whoever their make-up artist was, they had a solid future in all of the bloodiest and goriest horror movies Hollywood would have to offer.  
  
One dancer who had a knife sticking out of his throat, wet blood trickling down his chest.   
  
Another dancer had their chest exposed so their entire ribcage could be seen.  
  
There was one dancer that actually had a fake, yet realistic looking, intestine spooling out of his stomach.  It was attached to his sleeve so he could dance freely with it.  
  
It all came down to one thing though.  
  
That was to say, zombies doing the Irish jig.

And Rick had to admit, a person hadn't _lived_ until they saw a zombie doing the Irish jig.  
  
The music hit a peak and the dancing ended as every player landed hard on the last step, as one would do if they were to perform the traditional Irish dance.  
  
The deafening silence echoed in the hall as all the guests continued to gawk at the troupe, stunned speechless.  
  
Then Abraham, bless his soul, stood up at the bridal table, and started the process of the slow hand clap.  
  
“I’ve seen some fucked up shit in my time, but that is the _most_ fucked up shit I have _ever_ seen,” he said as he began to tear up.  “It was beautiful man.”  
  
And he continued to clap, everyone picking up on his clapping (and thank the Powers that Be for the slow hand clap), the whole hall finally erupting in hearty clapping and cheering and ending with a standing ovation.  
  
The troupe bowed and started up another jig, this one outdoing the last.  
  
“I can’t even get my damn make-up to stay on without it sweating off when I’m in court,” Andrea huffed.  “They’re just dancing and jumping and everything’s just _staying on_.  Huh.”  
  
“That zombie’s arm is still attached to him,” Carl said as he pointed to the man in the third row, his arm dangling to the side as if it was ready to come off, “and he just did that huge leap into the air.”  
  
“None of that blood and ooze,” Michonne said, wrinkling her nose, “even spattered on the floor.”  
  
After the dance troupe was done with their second round, and the clapping and cheering had died down enough, the leader of the troupe, the lower part of his jaw made to look as if the flesh had been eaten away and only his teeth were showing, came forward.  “Thank you!  We’d love to stay and perform a bit more but we have to be at our next gig.  You’ve been a great audience.  Also,” the man said as he grimaced, “some of my dancers decided to use the fence outside to stretch and warm up on and we sorta… _leaned_ against it and kinda bent it…so just get in touch with our office.  We have Allstate,” the man finished with a shrug, said ‘Good night,’ and left with the rest of his troupe, Georgia’s Not-Quite-Riverdance Dance Troupe making their way out of the hall and into the night.  
  
“I wonder where their next gig is at,” Rick mused.  
  
“Irish wake?” Merle shrugged, everyone at the table throwing him a dirty look.  
  
Hershel made it back in front of the mic.  “What in the _sam hell_ did I just fucking watch?!  I mean…they were good…but…”  
  
“Daddy,” Maggie called out as she stood at the table.  “We’re gonna cut the cake now.”  
  
And they did.  
  
The only reason Glenn had the cake smeared across his face was not because Maggie had done the smearing, as was the tradition at some weddings, but more because Glenn was completely lit and was probably seeing the cake in double.  
  
The cake had been cut up and some of Glenn’s relatives were handing out the dessert to people.  
  
Daryl leaned over and whispered in Rick’s ear, “iffen you want, we can take that bunny cake topper and use it for target practice.”  
  
Rick chuckled as he thought of the idea of blowing the offensive cartoon bunny couple away with his Python.  
  
While everyone was eating the cake, Maggie and Glenn called Rick over, where they seemed to be pointing behind them.  
  
The band was here.  
  
“I’ll be back,” Rick said as he left his table and ran over to the passageway the new couple disappeared into.  
  
“Hey,” Rick said as he walked up to the Mother Superior and shook her hand.  “I… _we’re_ so happy you could make it.”  
  
“I’m so thrilled to be here,” the large and very imposing African American woman said.  “And this must be the newly married couple.”  
  
“Hello,” Maggie said as she shook the woman’s hand vigorously.  “You have totally saved our asses…I mean our…”  
  
“'Asses' are fine dear,” the woman said.   
  
“This is the Mother Superior of the Knightly Order of the Sacred Heart of Saint Mary and the Immaculate Conception Church,” Rick said.  
  
Both Maggie and Glenn, who was pretty tanked at this point, stared at the woman completely wide-eyed.  
  
Rick doubted either one could repeat their full name at the moment let alone her full title.  
  
“That’s quite the mouthful,” the Mother Superior chuckled.  “You can call me Gladys.”  
  
“Oh thank fuck,” Glenn sighed before stuttering to a halt.  “Sorry, I just…have my…foot in my mouth right now.”  
  
“I understand.  As a representative of our Holy Father, we forgive anything said by anyone who recently took part in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony,” Gladys said and then off-handedly, “and of course, anyone of mental instability.”  
  
Well, Rick thought, at least Merle was off the hook for the night.  
  
“Sisters?” Gladys called out as a group of ten nuns appeared around the corner, all talking and giggling to each other.  “Go ahead and get up on stage.”  She turned to the couple.  “We’ll be ready in ten.”  
  
“Wow!” Maggie said.  “Oh she’s good,” she said as she looked at Rick.  
  
“Hey Maggie,” Rick asked, grimacing as he did so,” you okay with the Santas...and the dancing zombies?”  
  
And really, who could possibly be okay with zombies in any capacity?  
  
“Zombies at my wedding!” Maggie scoffed as she threw up her arms. “Who else can say that?”  
  
“Or Santas singing Christmas carols,” Glenn giggled.  “Holy shit!  This is totally gonna be a YouTube thing tomorrow.”  
  
“You want me to confiscate Alex’s phone and I dunno,” Rick shrugged, “shoot it?”  
  
After all, Alex had given him permission to use his gun on him.  
  
“You kidding me?!  We could go viral!” Glenn hiccuped.  
  
“So do you want me to introduce the ‘band,’” Rick said using air quotes around the word ‘band,’ “or do you want to Maggie?”  
  
“Maybe you should,” Maggie started.  
  
“But I wanna introduce the band,” Glenn whined.  
  
“Honey, you’re completely shitfaced,” Maggie said.  
  
“Please Mags,” Glenn pleaded.  “How many people can say they introduced _nuns_ on stage at their wedding?”  
  
Maggie nodded to Rick.  “Okay, but what did you call them again Rick?”  
  
“They’re the sisters with the Knightly Order of the Sacred Heart from Saint Mary of the Immaculate Conception Church,” Rick repeated.  
  
“Piece of cake,” Glenn said as his eyes glazed over.  “Piece of wedding cake!” he giggled.  
  
Rick gave another look to Maggie who shrugged, both of them making it back to their respective tables.  
  
“Hey everyone!” Glenn said aimlessly as he swung his hands around and stood in front of the stage.  
  
Rick groaned when he realized just how high Glenn really was.  
  
“Holy shit!  I am so _wasted_ right now!” Glenn laughed giddily.  “So singing tonight are the lovely sisters…as in nuns.  I shit you not!  _Nuns!_   They’re from the something Order of the…scary heart from the church of the…knocked up virgin,” the groom stuttered.  
  
“Oh God,” Rick whined as he shook his head.  “I should’ve introduced them.  Why didn’t I introduce them?”  
  
“What were you thinking giving him the mic?!” Andrea admonished.  
  
“But he wanted to so bad!” Rick said.  
  
Of course that was a flimsy excuse.  
  
That would be like Carl asking him if he could drive the family car to the mini mart to buy beer.  
  
Rick could imagine throwing himself on the mercy of the court with his only defense being, ‘But he really wanted to.’  
  
“Oh fuck it!” Glenn murmured.  “Here’s Gladys Knight and a whole lotta pips!” he said as the light came on and focused on the sisters and the blues band off to the side.  
  
The crowd was quiet as the Mother Superior herself walked up to the mic and cleared her throat.  
  
And in that beautiful and gracious voice of hers, she smiled and said, “Thank you for that lovely introduction Glenn.  My first song is dedicated to the groom himself.  Now that you’re married,” she said as she placed one hand on her hip and looked chidingly at Glenn, “you better remember who you answer to _boy_.”  
  
And then the band struck up, the sisters started singing back-up and Sister Gladys began singing the song that made Aretha Franklin famous, ‘Respect.’  
  
“Oh my God,” Michonne gasped.  “She does sound _exactly_ like Aretha!”  
  
“Told you,” a thoroughly pleased Rick said, a smile on his face while he leaned back against his chair.  
  
And just like that, the guests started tapping their feet and swaying in time with the music at their tables before a jubilant Maggie (now happy knowing the sisters could indeed sing) and an inebriated Glenn made their way out onto the dance floor, each of them pulling guests out of their seats so they could join them on the dance floor.  
  
“This is unfucking real,” Andrea said, completely in awe.  
  
Rick turned to Daryl to see his reaction to everything, when he noticed his neighbor was no longer there.  
  
Which disappointed him just a bit.  
  
Rick watched as Andrea made her way out to the dance floor with Michonne and as Carl was pulled as well by a pleading Sophia.   
  
Morgan got up and danced with Amy and Merle even managed to sashay onto the dance floor and insinuate himself between Michonne and Andrea, both women giving up and moving with the surly man.  
  
He even noticed Tyreese dancing with Judith in his arms.  
  
“Hey,” came Daryl’s voice.  
  
“Hey yourself,” Rick said as he turned around, pleased that his neighbor had _not_ deserted him.  “Wondered where you went off to.”  
  
“I just remembered that day at Starbucks,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Huh?” Rick said.  
  
Daryl produced a black fedora hat from behind his back along with a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses.  
  
Two sets of each to be exact.   
  
“We’re in suits Rick!  And that Mother Superior chick can belt out Motown better than Diana Ross.  So,” Daryl said as he placed one of the hats atop his head and put the sunglasses on, “whatcha waitin’ for Jake?”  
  
Rick laughed as he put the other hat and sunglasses on, got up and said, “just you Elwood.”  
  
They both burst out into laughter and ran into the crowd, the song winding down and morphing into one of the Supremes.’  
  
They danced together, showing off some amazing moves and acted, in general, completely and utterly _silly_.  
  
But Rick didn’t care what he looked like as he was dancing.  
  
No one did.  
  
Because he was having fun.  
  
He didn’t have to worry about looking ridiculous because everyone else did and even if they didn’t, nobody cared.  
  
He didn’t have to worry about embarrassing his partner, because his partner for most of the night, Daryl, was right there next to him, being just as silly and carefree.  
  
Rick had danced to every, single song.  
  
Judith had been passed to him at one point and he danced with her, everyone cooing about how cute it was and how she loved dancing with her daddy.  
  
He had danced one of the Temptations’ ballads, a slow song, the leader of the blues band taking over the songs best sung with a male lead, with Beth, constantly having to keep her hands around his back and as they kept migrating down onto his ass.  
  
He had danced another one of the Motown ballads, a Smokey Robinson number, with Michonne, constantly having to keep _her_ hands around his back and as they kept migrating down onto his ass.  
  
Of course, Michonne had been more insistent, stepping up her game by grinding into his lower half rather rabidly.  
  
He danced with Maggie who had kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for saving her wedding, from the prison, to the music and right down to the stupid hat.  
  
At one point Gareth had danced with him, but Daryl had cut in half way through.  
  
Rick noticed all the other people on the dance floor as well.  
  
The governor dancing with Tara, the young woman laughing and bumping her hip with the older man.  
  
Rosita dancing with Abraham, while including their friend Eugene, who tried so desperately to follow along with the music.  She showed him a few steps, Abraham assisting as well.  
  
Carol dancing with Morgan, glowing as she showed her moves on the floor.   
  
Sasha, Amy and Beth dancing interchangeably with Marty, Gareth and Alex, sometimes altogether as a group, others as couples.  
  
Duane, Carl, Sophia, Lizzie and Mika all dancing together and with each other, as children love to do.  
  
And Joe dancing with everyone, an equal opportunity dance partner if there was ever one.  
  
There would be a new bust in his studio by the morning.

Dale had danced with Glenn's _halmoni_ , neither of them half bad.  
  
Even Caesar made it onto the dance floor, dancing ‘cheek-to-cheek’ with Gareth and Alex’s mother.  
  
Judith had been passed around to everyone, dancing with everyone.   
  
Rick danced.  
  
Rick drank.  
  
And he laughed.  
  
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so energetic, so animated.  
  
So _alive_.  
  
By the end of the set, he had to sit down before his legs completely gave out.  
  
He was completely exhausted.  
  
But it was such a good feeling.  
  
Rick made his way back to his table, Daryl following behind him.  
  
“I’m too old for this shit, I reckon,” Rick laughed as he sat down on the chair with a heavy thud, Daryl plopping himself down in the seat next to him.  
  
“Naw, you’re what?  Hey how old _are_ you?” Daryl asked, his eyebrows furrowed together.  
  
“Thirty-five,” Rick sighed.  
  
And he was feeling every one of those thirty-five years at the moment.  
  
“Damn!” Daryl snickered.  
  
“Oh thanks!”  
  
“Naw, it’s not that.  I’m thirty-nine myself,” Daryl smirked.  “We’re both old.”  
  
“And I’m all sweaty,” Rick said as he wiped his face with his handkerchief.  
  
“You been… _we_ been dancin’ for the last couple hours,” Daryl said, doing the same as well.  
  
“Maybe we should get some fresh air,” Rick said.  
  
“Wanna go up on one of them watch towers?” Daryl asked.  
  
“You think they’re unlocked?” Rick asked excitedly.  He had been thinking about doing that since the first moment he saw them.  
  
“I seen some other people go up there,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
Rick walked over to the group of women from the apartment building, Carol holding Judith and bouncing her on her hip, to make sure it was alright to leave her with them.  
  
“Hey.  ‘M gonna go outside for a bit,” Rick said to Carol.  
  
“You do that.  You look like you’re gonna melt,” Carol smiled.  “We’ll all take care of Judith.”  
  
“But you better be careful,” Michonne said as she pointed at Rick.  “We might not wanna give her back!”  
  
Rick ran outside and followed Daryl to one of the guard towers out front.  They made their way up the stairs (the door having been indeed unlocked) and into the small room, which overlooked some of the prison grounds and the parking lot.  
  
“Can’t believe the doors were unlocked,” Rick giggled as they came upon the balcony.  
  
“Your friend, Carlos,” Daryl scoffed.  
  
“Caesar,” Rick corrected.  
  
“Said everything’s unlocked around here,” Daryl quipped.  As they looked over the side, both men relaxing against the railing, Daryl lit a cigarette and turned to Rick.  “You did good…with the group…um, nuns.”  
  
Breathing in the fresh air, Rick said, “I was worried there for a minute.”  
  
“Naw, you heard those women before, at the church.  You knew they were good,” Daryl said as he leaned farther over the balcony.  
  
“Hey look!  It’s the singing Santas,” Rick giggled as he pointed to the quartet as they made their way to their parked Kia, a slightly inebriated Hershel following along.  
  
Daryl laughed and started pinching his index finger and thumb together in the air.  
  
“What’re you doing?” Rick asked.  
  
“Tryin’ to pinch the head of that fucker who said I got no Christmas spirit,” Daryl growled.  “Got ‘im.”  
  
“I believe you just killed Christmas, Mr. Dixon,” Rick laughed.  
  
They watched as the men made their way into the car, Hershel bidding them goodbye.  
  
“Well, that was weird,” Daryl said.  “That old fucker’s chock full of surprises.”  
  
“Yeah, but his barn is one-hundred percent gopher free,” Rick sputtered.  
  
And with that Daryl fist bumped Rick.  
  
“Wanna drag?” Daryl asked as he passed the cigarette to Rick.  
  
“Don’t think I’ve done this in like, twenty years,” Rick said as he looked at the cigarette.  
  
“You used to smoke?” Daryl asked.  
  
“No, when me and Shane hung out,” Rick started.  “We tried smokin’ this one time in our junior year in high school.  We were both kinda wasted on some beer Shane managed to get some guy to buy for us.  I was coughing pretty bad, then handed him the cigarette.”  
  
“First hit’s always the worst.  How’d he do?” Daryl smiled.  
  
“Shane was all, ‘I can’t smoke.  I gotta stay in shape for football,’” Rick said as he lowered his voice in imitation of Shane.  “And I look over at him, now remember we was real drunk and I said, ‘Shane!  You dumbshit!  This is _baseball_ season!’  And he was like, ‘oh yeah but I gotta stay in shape for baseball season too!’ and I’m like, ‘but Shane!  You ain’t even on the baseball team.’  And that fucker laughed and said,” and here Rick lowered his voice again, “‘that’s why I gotta stay in shape if I can’t even make the damn _baseball_ team!’” Rick finished with a laugh, then noticed Daryl not laughing with him.  “Okay, it was funnier at the time.”  
  
“Actually it was kinda funny,” Daryl laughed  “Best part was imaginin’ you all drunk and coughing on your first cigarette.”  
  
“God I was so awkward.  But at least I was on the damn baseball team,” Rick said.  “What sport were you in your junior year of high school?”  
  
Daryl looked down thoughtfully and took another drag of his cigarette.  “Thank you.”  
  
“Huh?” Rick asked, in complete confusion.  
  
Rick didn’t think he was that sloshed to have missed something that he might have said or did that Daryl could possibly have thanked him for.  
  
“For assuming I didn’t drop out, that I wasn’t another dumb hick or piece of shit white trash, who couldn’t even pass seventh grade or some shit,” Daryl finished as he threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his shoe.  
  
“Well you seem pretty smart,” Rick shrugged.  “I mean, so I just assumed…”  
  
“I did.  Graduate, that is,” Daryl said with a small smile.  “Just no one ever thinks that.”  
  
Both men regarded each other intently, before their attention was diverted to a commotion at the other guard tower, where a light suddenly turned on inside and some yelling could be heard.  
  
“Hey!  Is that your friend and Gareth’s mom?” Daryl said.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said as he squinted into the darkness.  They could both make out Caesar sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, Gareth’s mother, Mary, sitting on top while facing him, her skirt hiked up around her thighs.  They could make out Gareth standing there, looking at both people with his arms waving around wildly.  
  
“Seriously mom?!” Gareth yelled.  “Am I gonna have to call _him_ daddy now too?!”  
  
“We should probably get back,” Daryl said. “Party’s winding down anyway.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said as both men backed away from the room, watching the exchange among the three people across the way.  
  
They made their way back down the winding stairs and back into the hall, where Michonne, Andrea and Sasha rushed at them.  “There you are!” Sasha chided.  “Glenn’s gonna throw the garter!”  
  
Oh how Rick hated the whole garter-throwing thing.  
  
The band would play sleazy, striptease music, then the groom would slowly remove the garter from the bride’s exposed leg.  He would twirl it around and around until he threw it over his shoulder and the person usually in front would catch it and hold it up to the cheering crowd as if it were the World Championship of Boxing Belt.  
  
Sure enough the band (the blues band associated with the Saint Mary of the Immaculate Conception Church no less) started playing the sleazy, striptease music.  And Maggie hiked up her skirt so Glenn could get down on one knee to slowly pull the garter down her leg.  
  
Only once Glenn had gotten down on bended knee and listened to all the wolf whistles and catcalls, he yanked the garter down quickly, eliciting an ‘Ow’ from Maggie and held the thing up.  
  
The crowd booed.  
  
They were a bit miffed at having been denied the show.  
  
“What?  You think I’m gonna let you pervs watch me strip my wife?” Glenn slurred before he stopped and frowned.  “Okay, that came out wrong.”  
  
But before Glenn could think anymore on it, and after three failed attempts to twirl said garter on his finger and the crowd was growing restless while chanting, ‘Throw it!  Throw it!’ he threw it.  
  
It was a sloppy throw.  
  
Had it been a serve in tennis, it would been foul.  
  
It veered to the left severely and landed on the neck of a beer bottle.

The one in Rick's hand.  
  
“And we have a winner!” Joe yelled out as everyone pointed at Rick and clapped him on the back, men and women alike cheering him on, while Michonne and Beth leered at him.  
  
And true to tradition, Rick plucked the garter off his beer bottle and held it up as if it were that damn prized Belt.  
  
He might even had made a grunting caveman gesture.  
  
“You know what that means,” Daryl said, a smarmy smirk on his face as he elbowed Rick.  
  
“It means,” Andrea called out cattily and with a big smile, “whoever catches the bouquet is the person you’re gonna marry someday.”  
  
He knew that wedding superstition.  
  
It was a lie.  
  
And a total myth.  
  
Rick had remembered attending a wedding a year after his high school graduation for a couple of old school friends.  
  
He had caught the garter and a beautiful girl named Jessie had caught the bouquet.  
  
That night, Shane had banged her in one of the bathroom stalls in the ladies room while Rick had been busy throwing up bad beer in the men’s.  
  
Jessie later married a man named Peter Anderson, a man aptly nicknamed ‘porch dick’ (and when asked why ‘porch dick,’ people would answer because he liked to sit on his porch and he was a dick) who went on to become a doctor.  
  
So Rick knew the superstition to be false but he decided to play along.  
  
It was a sweet myth, as traditions went.  
  
Rick looked at the crowd of women standing in a tight huddle, Michonne and Beth eyeing each other.  
  
Maggie took her bouquet and faced backwards to the huddled mass of women.  
  
“Fuck,” Daryl chuckled as he watched on, “those two are gonna get in a cat fight over that damn thing.”  
  
God, Rick hoped not.  
  
“God, I sure hope they do,” Merle mused.  
  
It was all about perspective Rick figured.  
  
All the men counted down to three, Maggie throwing the bouquet behind her on ‘one.’  
  
She of course, was a much better pitcher than her husband, who in his defense, was really wasted, so the bundle of flowers and ribbons went high into the air, soaring up, up and up, until it came down like a meteorite hurtling through space and hit Daryl on the head, bouncing off and landing in his arms when he held them out.  
  
“Um,” Daryl said.  
  
“Well that’s an interesting development,” Michonne said.  “But hey.  We gotta take a picture of you two.  That’s the rules.”  
  
Rick wondered who it was that made the rules regarding wedding customs.  
  
He thought about finding a loophole but really, it was Daryl and the man had an amused expression on his face so he decided to go with the flow.  
  
They stood next to each other, Rick holding the garter at chest level, as if he were about to slingshot the thing across the room while Daryl held the bouquet away from him as if it was the face hugger from the Alien movies and about to jump on his face and breed in him.  
  
Daryl looked down at the bouquet.  “This don’t mean I’m the girl, you know.”  
  
“Actually, I hope you know this means you have to sleep with Shane now,” Rick smirked.  
  
Daryl looked at Rick in complete shock at the exact moment the photo was taken.  
  
“Aw hell,” Daryl groused.  “Oh well.”  
  
Both men made their way back to the table where Carl was sitting with Judith, who was sound asleep in his arms.  
  
He sat down next to his children and rubbed his knuckles along her soft cheek.  He faced Daryl and smiled at the man.  
  
He had his children with him.  And they had enjoyed the day with him as well as getting to know his new friends.   
  
Good friends.  
  
And even though the buzz was wearing off, he still felt so very content.  
  
It had been a good day.  
  
“You look happy,” Carl said, smiling over Judith’s shoulder.  
  
“Huh?” Rick asked, lost in his thoughts.  
  
“You,” Carl repeated.  “You look happy.  It looks good on you.”  
  
“It’s the suit that looks good on me,” Rick chuckled.  
  
“Sure dad,” Carl scoffed.  “That must be it.”  
  
And there was that eye roll.  
  
Somewhere during the time Maggie had thrown the bouquet, she had disappeared with the bridesmaids, coming back now outfitted in a much shorter dress.  
  
A beanie cap, knitted by Glenn’s sweet _Halmoni_ during the wedding, hugged her head as she had taken off the top hat.  
  
“We’re leaving now!” she called out as she pulled Glenn away from some of the guests and made their way outside, where they would wait for Gareth to pull up with their car.  
  
Most of the guests had finally gone home for the night.  There weren’t many people left so it was a rather small gathering, even when you included some of the nuns, that saw the newlyweds off.  
  
“Well,” Glenn said, his arms out to the side and completely trashed, looking as if he was ready to make a grand speech, “I didn’t throw up!”  
  
“Night’s still young,” Abraham said as he slapped the groom on the back hard.  
  
“I do not think it would be wise for a man in your exceedingly inebriated condition to operate a vehicle,” Eugene droned, “or farm equipment for that matter.”  
  
“Eugene!  What exactly do you think they’re gonna do on their honeymoon, bro?” Tara giggled.  
  
“Don’t worry Eugene,” Maggie said.  “I’m driving.”  
  
“Well,” Merle said, “we know who’s gonna be on top tonight!”  
  
“I’ll pretend I ain’t hearing any of this,” Hershel said as he nodded.   
  
Maggie and Glenn hugged Caesar, thanking him profusely for all his hard work.  Maggie then thanked Mary for the beautiful dress, the older woman attaching herself to Rick’s old friend once again.  
  
Alex walked up to the pair.  “So mom, I heard,” he smiled and threw his hands out to the side while addressing Caesar.  “ _Daddy!_ ”  
  
“ _Pandejo!_ ” Caesar huffed, as he threw a dirty look to the young man and walked away, still arm in arm with Mary.  
  
Well, he wasn’t quite sure what his friend was getting into, but he would be happy for him.  
  
Unless he suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth and had to be declared legally dead in seven years.  
  
Maybe he would talk to Caesar in the morning.  
  
Everyone watched as Gareth drove the car up to the couple.  
  
“Oh!  Ha!  Ha!” Glen mocked laughed, smirking the whole time.  
  
For every square inch of Maggie and Glenn’s car was covered in condoms, all blown up as if they were balloons.  
  
“To make sure you practice safe sex,” Gareth said, his tongue firmly in cheek.  
  
“Why’d you get the extra large then?” Merle said.  
  
“Merle, shut the fuck up!” Glenn jeered before breaking into a wide smile and hugging everyone, Maggie doing the same.  
  
“Hey!  Anyone seen my _halmoni_?” Glenn asked.  
  
“She’s chatting up the sax player,” Sister Mary Bridgette piped up.  
  
“My grandma always was a music groupie,” he said as he shook his head.  “Well, we’re off!”  
  
Everyone waved at the couple as they got into their car, continuing on even after Maggie drove away.  
  
“Thank fuck _that’s_ over!” Hershel breathed out.  
  
“Amen,” Sister Gladys said, everyone looking at the nun in surprise.  “What?!”  
  
Rick watched as the car disappeared from sight.  
  
Turning around, he noticed Daryl doing the exact same thing, only his neighbor seemed to be deep in thought.  
  
“Hey, Alex,” Daryl asked as he continued to look down the drive after the car, long after it was gone.  “How exactly did you attach those condoms to the car?”  
  
“Dude,” Alex shrugged, “what do you think the crazy glue was for?!”  
  
  
  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay there you go! 
> 
> This chapter was fun to write, but it also kicked my ass! LOL! 
> 
> So please, if you're reading, give me a heads up and a small note. 
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with me this far. There's more zaniness ahead but I needed to get through this day (the wedding).
> 
> Hope you liked.
> 
> Once again, my tumblr is [dementedqueen](http://dementedqueen.tumblr.com).


	20. INTERLUDE - Should've stuck with the porn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Interlude time again.
> 
> This one is from Merle's POV.
> 
> Also, it references a short one-shot titled 'Going Total Rick.' I wrote it for a collection but realized I liked it so much it should stay in the story arc so you should read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5088368) if you haven't already.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Merle’s POV

  
  
Daryl was, it seemed, in a _really_ good mood.  
  
Maybe it was because his business was doing so well, being that he was already on another two-day excursion and he had a rather impressive waiting list of clients.  
  
Those Starbuck executives had made good on their word and really _had_ recommended him.  
  
In fact, the people he had taken out just earlier this morning had paid extra for the 'spur of the moment' hunting trip.  
  
Daryl had not been able to say no to that.  
  
Then again, maybe the _real_ reason his brother was floating on cloud nine (and Merle may have been accused by many for being thick-headed but he wasn’t that bad that he didn’t know well enough that this was the real reason) was because of his new neighbor, Rick.  
  
The day after the wedding, Daryl had suggested he take Rick and his kids fishing at one of his favorite spots, just outside of Atlanta.  
  
Rick had taken Daryl up on his suggestion and the five of them including Merle, because he refused to stay home when good fishing could be had, had gone fishing that Sunday.  
  
After a day spent showing Rick the best way to bait his hook, teaching Carl how to cast his line and even having the baby sit on Daryl’s lap so he could help her ‘fish’ and the general all around bonding time spent with the Grimes, Daryl had that goofy smile plastered all over his face the entire night and no matter how much Merle had goaded his baby brother, he couldn’t seem to wipe it off.  
  
And he had had it the next day as well, on Monday, today, when he had taken Rick to get their fancy drinks at the Starbucks (although, if truth be told, Daryl did seem to be in a cranky mood right before Rick needed to leave for work; something about Gareth and phone sex).  
  
But his bad mood had been short lived when Daryl had made his good-byes with their new neighbor, walked back into their apartment, that goofy smile _still_ plastered to his face and announced that he still had time before he needed to go on his hunting expedition that he could buy that new iMac that Merle had been bothering him about for the past year.  
  
Had Merle known getting his brother _almost_ to first base with Rick (and really, not even that close to first base because Rick was so far in the closet, it would take the jaws of life and a cattle prod to get him out of there) would lead his brother to updating to a better computer, he would have done it a lot sooner.  
  
And now, here Merle sat.  
  
In front of his new iMac, Eugene having helped him install the damn thing earlier.  
  
Merle logged on, and although he planned on a long night of internet porn, he still needed to check out one thing before heading down the aforementioned path.  
  
He went on to YouTube and sought out Terminus1000, Alex’s site.  
  
Sprinkled amongst the various clips from the wedding - the dancing zombies, the singing nuns and the a cappella Santas harassing Hershel - was a clip titled ‘Who not to pick up at a wedding.’  
  
Merle clicked on the video and watched as an inebriated ‘Governor’ kept trying to hit on one of the nuns from the band.  
  
Finally the sister, and damn if Merle thought the woman couldn’t be a dead ringer for Michonne with short hair, having had enough, calmly told Philip that she was married to God.  She then asked politely if he could please stop trying to hit on her.  
  
Philip looked back at the sister, smiled and exclaimed, “Well hot damn!  You calling your man a god is getting me so god damned hot and bothered right now.”  
  
The sister had responded by calling Philip a part of the male anatomy and had walked away.  
  
Merle chuckled before he looked at the other offerings available to him, clicking on Alex’s ’Top Ten Horror Movies.’  
  
He sat back and watched the clip.  
  
When he had been done with that, he noticed all the other recommended video clips on the side in the same vein from other users and started watching those, Merle’s eyes glued to the screen the whole time in rapt fascination.  
  
  
  
 _Two hours later…_  
  
  
Merle knocked on Rick’s door urgently.  
  
He didn’t like standing out in the hallway for too long, because that was when the person who was knocking frantically on the door would get hacked to pieces by the knife-wielding maniac.  
  
“Rick!  Open your god-damned door!” Merle shouted angrily as he continued to knock.  
  
“I’m coming Merle!” Rick shouted on the other side, just before he swung the door open, his neighbor standing there in an old pair of sweats, a tee-shirt and his bare feet.  “What’s wrong?!  Someone hurt?” Rick asked anxiously.  
  
“No,” Merle sulked.  “Just…Daryl’s gone…”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick nodded.  
  
“And…well,” Merle said right before he stood just a bit taller and said with conviction, “he told me I should you know…keep you company while he was gone.”  
  
“Keep me?” Rick sputtered.  “What?!”  
  
“’S not good for a man to be alone too long Rick,” Merle said.  
  
“I just came back from work.  I’ve seen people all day,” Rick huffed.  “And not very nice people.  Hello.  Cop.”  
  
“Well, I’m just bein' a good big brother,” Merle pouted.  
  
“By knocking on my door at night and demanding you spend time with me?” Rick said.    
  
“Sounded better in my head,” Merle mumbled.  
  
Rick sighed and moved away from the door, “come on in Merle.  I was watchin’ ‘Buffy.’”  
  
“Oh!” Merle said happily as he made himself comfortable on the overstuffed wing chair next to the couch.  “I love that show.”  
  
Maybe a comedy would help him take his mind off all the videos he had been watching for the past few hours.  
  
He watched as Rick sank into the couch, putting his feet up on one of the armrests and laying his head down on the pillow.  
  
“Which one’s this?” Merle asked.  
  
“The one where Buffy just turned eighteen,” Rick said.  
  
“That the one where she does the _nasty_ with Angel and he goes and loses his soul?” Merle asked.  
  
“No, that’s when she turned seventeen.  This’s the one where she loses all her slayer strength and has to fight that creepy vampire on her own,” Rick said as he punched his pillow in a few times to get more comfortable.  
  
“Hated that vampire,” Merle sneered.  “Doncha think he looks just like Joe?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said.  “Thought the same damn thing.  They used the same actor to play Rack in the sixth season.”  
  
“Man,” Merle whistled.  “That sixth season, huh?  Spike and her doin’ the nasty everywhere.  The way they brought that house down when they finally fucked.  Knew it’d be hot.”  
  
“Guess when two people’ve been circling ‘round each other, that’s what’s gonna happen,” Rick shrugged.  
  
Merle wondered what would happen when Rick and Daryl _finally_ managed to get together.  
  
Maybe suggesting to Dale the building should practice their fire drills sooner rather than later might not be a terrible idea.  
  
“Buffy always seemed so sad as each season got on,” Rick frowned.  “I always loved fun loving Buffy from the beginning.”  
  
“Yeah,” Merle smirked lewdly.  “And I liked that smokin’ hot bod she had too…with all that baby fat…and them knockers of hers…”  
  
“Thank you Merle,” Rick sighed, “for spoiling my sweet and innocent memories of early Buffy.  I gotta copy of the movie ‘A Christmas Story’ that you can jack off on.  Make a complete night of it.”  
  
“Naw, that’s okay,” Merle shrugged, Rick throwing him an incredulous look.  
  
Rick always said the strangest things.  
  
“So…why’re you here Merle?” Rick asked off-handedly, which really didn’t seem off-handed whatsoever.  
  
Not wanting to let Rick in on why Merle was really there, he figured diversion would work in his favor.  
  
“Hey, Rick,” Merle said, “you got that outfit you wore last week?  You know, the one with the boots and the skirt…”  
  
“Yes, I got ‘em!” Rick growled.  “The girls said I should keep ‘em iffen I need them again.”  
  
“Maybe you should…”  
  
“And don’t you even think ‘bout asking me to put ‘em on,” Rick grumbled.  “Fucking pervert.”  
  
Well, that was too bad.  
  
Seeing Rick in that skirt with that ass and his bow legs might actually distract him enough to forget about everything he had just watched.  
  
“Your brother know ‘bout your weird fetish for men in women’s… _things_?” Rick asked.  
  
Hell, even _Merle_ didn’t even know he had a fetish.  
  
Then again, it seemed to be Rick’s ass in a skirt that appealed to him mostly.  
  
“Seriously,” Rick sighed.  “What’s up Merle?”  
  
The chime of Rick’s cell phone started playing, saving Merle once again.  
  
“Hello,” Rick said as he answered the call.  “Hey Gareth,” he sighed.  “No, I’m not mad at you…yes, really…a favor, huh?…I meant it, I’m not mad…but that don’t mean I wanna do you a favor…”  
  
Merle watched as Rick listened to whatever it was Gareth had to say before answering again, “and you want me?… _Me?!?_..Uh-huh…Okay, well I guess it couldn’t... _hurt_ …I’ll do this thing with you…”  
  
Merle tapped Rick on the knee repeatedly, “Rick!” he hissed.    
  
“Hold on,” Rick said and held the phone away from him to address Merle.  “What is it Merle?”  
  
“Daryl told you to stop having phone sex with Gareth,” Merle said matter-of-factly.  
  
“I wasn’t…I wasn’t having phone sex with Gareth again!” Rick sputtered.  He got back on the phone, “what?…no, that was Merle…he told me not to have, oh for fucks’ sake!  Stop laughing…yeah, okay…talk to you later.”  Rick looked at his phone and ended the call.  
  
“What’s that all about?” Merle asked.  
  
“He wants me to be in this commercial _thang_ he’s putting together for some contest at Starbucks,” Rick said before he became more agitated.  “Why’re you really here Merle?  You been all jumpy like you got gophers in your pants.”  
  
“You know how I feel ‘bout them gophers Rick,” Merle said angrily.  
  
Merle looked at Rick as the man tipped his head to the side and regarded him more intently.  
  
He hated that head tilt.  
  
It was scary.  
  
Merle didn’t find it _nearly_ as endearing as his baby brother did.  
  
Then again, Daryl could probably find Rick flossing his teeth endearing.  
  
“I was looking stuff up on my new computer,” Merle started.  
  
“Internet porn,” Rick nodded.  
  
“Wish I had!” Merle exclaimed.  “So’s I started off with this ‘Top Ten Horror Movies’ list and _that_ led me to more lists like that and then that led me to one of them ‘Urban Legends that are totally real’ list and that pointed me to these clips ‘bout creepy children and that’s when I started watching all these videos ‘bout black-eyed children and reading ‘bout them,” he finished with a small whimper.  
  
Merle looked around him nervously.  
  
It was true.  
  
The pictures of the children, then reading about them, had creeped him out so that every noise in the adjoining bedrooms had started bothering him more and more to the point that he jumped up off his chair and ran out of the apartment, and straight to Rick’s door.  
  
“You watched horror videos…on the internet,” Rick sighed as he put his head in his hands, “and now you’re all spooked out.”  
  
“Yeah,” Merle pouted, “and you can’t tell Daryl nothing ‘bout this.”  
  
“’S like Shane all over again,” Rick muttered while putting his hands on his hips.  “You can sleep on the couch tonight Merle.”  
  
“Really?” Merle said happily.  “Well you got that huge ass bed in there…”  
  
“The _couch_ Merle!” Rick growled, “I’ll leave…the bedroom door open though…”  
  
“And the lights on?” Merle asked.  
  
“Oh God,” Rick sighed.  “Yes, one light.”  
  
“Deal!” Merle said with a smile.  
  
Just then there was a knock on the door.  
  
“Now who the in the hell could that be?!” Rick exclaimed.  
  
“Don’t answer that door!” Merle shouted.  “That’s just how the urban legends with them god-damned black-eyed children start.  At night, they go door to door and knock and then the unsuspecting person answers the door and there’s these kids, standing there, their eyes black as night, and then they kill you!” he said as he gathered a pillow up onto his chest and held onto it tightly.  “Why else’d someone be knocking on your door at night?”  
  
“ _You_ knocked on my door tonight?!” Rick scoffed as he nodded his head back and forth.  
  
“Sir?” the voice came from the other side.  “It’s an emergency!”  
  
Duane.  
  
 _He_ was a child.  
  
“Don’t answer that!” Merle screamed out.  
  
“’S Duane.  We know him,” Rick said.  “Only problem with Duane is his daddy,” he said as he opened the door to the frantic boy.  “What’s up Duane?”  
  
Behind Duane stood Lizzy, Mika and Sophia as well.  
  
“My daddy’s on the roof listening to his radio.  'S tuned into the police frequency,” Duane started.  
  
Rick put his hand on his head, “that’s really illegal Duane.  Your daddy shouldn’t oughta be doing that.”  
  
“I know, but he told me to tell you something big’s going down and they’re calling everyone in,” Duane said excitedly.  
  
Rick looked up.  “How big?”  
  
“Don’t know sir, but he heard they’re gonna be calling _everyone_ in,” Duane answered.  
  
“He gotta lead on some mugging down in another quarter,” Lizzy stepped in to say.  “So he got his big staff and took off for that but he wanted to make sure you heard 'bout everyone being called in.”  
  
“He’s off...to a _mugging_?!” Rick started, a baffled look on his face before realization dawned on him.  “Oh my God!  Is _he_ the vigilante guy?!” he shouted.  
  
“Well,” Duane winced, “I mean, he did tell you he was Batman…”  
  
“The guys down at the precinct told me ‘bout some guy who's going around with this huge staff and stopped a bunch of muggings,” Rick said.  “They nick named him Obi-Wan.”  
  
“Oh,” Duane said sadly.  “Daddy ain’t gonna like that.  He don’t… _doesn’t_ …like 'Star Wars' much.”  
  
And that was what was truly wrong with Morgan as far as Merle was concerned.  
  
Rick shook his head clear.  “Look, I’ll deal with...,” he said before his phone started chiming again.  Holding up the phone, he looked at everyone, “it’s my precinct.  Hey,” he said into the phone, “yeah, actually I heard…yeah, I can be there in the next half hour…okay…bye.”  
  
“So,” Merle said, “you gotta go?  What is it this time?  Elephants got outta the zoo?”  
  
“They wouldn’t say,” Rick said.  “Okay, so you go on home now.”  
  
“All our parents are out,” Sophia said.  “Momma, Sasha, Michonne and Andrea and all the other women in the building are out on some ladies night thing.”  
  
“We were supposed to stay up on the roof with daddy,” Duane said.  
  
“What about Tyreese?” Rick asked.  
  
“Not allowed up there no more.  He forgot he was watching us all one time and started up some cheerleader porn,” Duane said innocently.  “After that, daddy didn’t need to have that talk with me.”  
  
“Gareth and Alex?” Rick asked.  
  
“Sasha and Andrea nearly killed them when they found out we watched a ‘Halloween’ movie marathon with them,” Mika said.  
  
“Okay, well, you can stay here with Merle,” Rick said.  
  
“We don’t need no babysitter!” Lizzy huffed.  
  
“Actually, I was sorta hoping you could watch him,” Rick smiled.  
  
Merle watched as Rick went into his bedroom, got his things together and made his way out the door.  “I’ll call to let you know what’s going on,” Rick said.  “Be good,” he said as he looked at the group sitting on the couch and floor.  
  
“We’ll be good sir,” Duane said.  
  
“I was talking to Merle,” Rick said and made his way out the door, Merle throwing a nasty look at his neighbor.  
  
Merle watched as Duane jumped off the floor and made his way to the door, peeking out carefully.  “He’s gone!”  
  
“Okay, so I say we watch the ‘Ghosthunters’ marathon on the SyFy channel,” Mika said.  
  
“No!” Sophia said.  “I wanna get momma’s old Ouiga board outta the closet and conjure up some actual ghosts!  We gotta turn out all the lights though.”  
  
“Hell no,” Duane said.  “They’re running both ‘Urban Legend’ movies back to back on AMC.  Let’s watch that.”  
  
Lizzy came running out of Rick’s bedroom.  “He’s got a _ginormous_ mirror in the bathroom.  I say we summon Bloody Mary tonight by saying her name three times in front of it!”  
  
“Awesome!” Sophia giggled as she got off the couch and followed Mika and Duane, who were already making their way into the bathroom.  “Can you turn off all the lights Merle?” she asked innocently.  
  
Merle sighed.  
  
It was going to be a long ass night.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main reason I wanted to include 'Buffy' is because it was always one of my favorite movies. It never ceased to put a smile on my face. Also, because the actor who played Joe on TWD played 2 different charcaters on Buffy. And lastly, because of the Spike and Buffy reference. ;)
> 
> As usual, if you liked it, let me know. 
> 
> Feedback is your friend. :)


	21. Interlude - The Walking Swab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was watching Scream Queens the other night (and if you're not watching this wonderful show, I gotta ask 'why?') and I became inspired by Chanel's (Emma Roberts) white outfit.
> 
> For a picture of it, go [ here, my tumblr ](http://dementedqueen.tumblr.com/post/133672658423/this-is-the-outfit-rick-is-wearing-in-my-latest#notes).
> 
> You should probably look at it anyway. It really is the cutest thing ever. :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Gareth’s POV  
  
  
It was crazy really.  
  
But when Gareth was in that mood, he couldn’t think straight.  
  
He couldn’t function on all cylinders.  
  
He couldn’t perform his simple day to day routine and anything else for that matter.  
  
His focus became narrowed down to one thing.  
  
Getting laid.  
  
Yes, Gareth was horny and God forbid anyone who got in his way until his very precise mission was accomplished.  
  
Which explained why he was standing in front of the The Grove, the classiest, trendiest and most upscale nightclub Atlanta had to offer.  
  
It was filled to the brim with the elitist of the elite, the creme de la creme, the most beautiful, the most well coiffed and the best dressed of the most affluent sons and daughters of all of Georgia.  
  
And everyone who came to play with them.  
  
Which of course, included him.  
  
He always had luck when he paid The Grove a visit.  Whether it was a hot, young muscle-bound stud or a sexy, petite debutante for the night, he was always sure to score.  
  
There was invariably a line going around the corner, but he had no problem getting in, as he waved at the bouncer who unclipped the rope and stepped aside.  
  
The man had a particular taste for Espresso Macchiatos with extra foam.  
  
Gareth knew how to whip up extra foam with the best of them and his knowledge of that skill occasionally came in handy.  
  
Particularly on nights like this one, when he wanted to get into Atlanta’s flashiest club without waiting in its long and cumbersome line.  
  
The music was thumping and pounding within his ears as Gareth strolled into the club’s depths.  The light show that accompanied the techno beat scoured over the dancing crowd, allowing someone like himself to survey the fresh meat that was on display for the night.  
  
He observed two men dancing provocatively with each other, both shirtless, their hair fashionably spiked atop their heads.  They smiled seductively as one when they noticed Gareth’s attention on them.  
  
They were hot.  
  
And a very real possibility.  
  
The idea of doing two people at the same time tonight had its merit.  
  
But it wasn’t what he had in mind.  
  
He saw a group of college coeds in the corner, all wearing their designer ensembles, diamonds and other expensive baubles adorning them, while their smooth and shiny hair bounced all around.  
  
Gareth could have easily gone over, struck up a conversation with any one of them and had someone bent over the restroom sink in a matter of fifteen minutes.  
  
But he wasn’t in _that_ kind of mood either.  
  
Gareth ordered a Jim Beam on the rocks from the bartender and stood against the bar, looking out at the sea of people before him.  
  
The sad truth was, his mind had been preoccupied by only one thing in the past few weeks;  more specifically, the past two days.  
  
Rick.  
  
He had only meant the gentle teasing on the phone with his new neighbor as some silly, harmless fun.  
  
But that had backfired on him something fierce when Rick, oblivious, _clueless_ Rick, had responded so wantonly and now Gareth couldn’t get those enticing images out of his head.  
  
Which was why he found himself in his current state.  
  
He needed to get laid, if anything, so he could at least get back to his life because there was no way in hell someone like Rick would ever respond to his advances, and even if Rick were to, Daryl Dixon was in the way.  
  
Daryl Dixon, hunter for hire, who was no doubt on his way back from his latest conquest, loaded to the gills with hunting knives, guns and that damned ubiquitous crossbow.  
  
The pleasant wet dreams that he found himself indulging in more and more frequently as of late, the ones about him actually _bedding_ Rick would usually morph into nightmares of Daryl hunting Gareth down, skewering him with his arrows, (thereby turning him into a human sieve) and ending with him being skinned by the hunter and his head mounted like a trophy on the wall in the Dixon household.  
  
He couldn’t even properly fantasize about his new neighbor without Daryl Dixon screwing it all up.  
  
Gareth was about to down the rest of his drink when he noticed a woman making her way out of the crowd.  
  
Now _this_ looked promising.  
  
The first thing Gareth noticed about her was how tall she was.  Taller than most of the ladies in the club in fact, but lanky, and most definitely still shorter than himself.  
  
She looked as if she had walked off one of the catwalks in Paris and right into the nightclub.  
  
When you looked ‘haute couture’ up in the dictionary, there would no doubt be a picture of this woman.  
  
She was dressed in a simple white ensemble from head to toe.  At first, Gareth had thought she was  wearing a very short skirt until he realized they were a pair of high-waisted, loose fitting shorts.  She paired it with a bandeau crop top that had a long, scalloped cape attached to it.  
  
The outfit fit her perfectly, a delicate woven chain belt cinched at her waist.  
  
But it didn’t stop at the clothing because the woman truly knew how to accessorize and it gave credence to the saying, ‘the devil’s in the details.’  
  
Around her slim neck was a simple pearl choker, two strands in thickness.  
  
Long blond tresses flowed over her bare shoulders but what caught his eye was the adorable white fur headband that sat atop her head.  It was thick enough that it resembled a hat.  
  
Matching, furry, white boots adorned the bottom half, with sheer white stockings meeting halfway up her thighs completing the look.  
  
Simply put, she was _divine_.  
  
A true vision in all white.  
  
She was a snow princess in the wilds of the most far away snowy reaches of the world.  
  
If Doctor Zhivago and Karl Lagerfeld had a love child, it would be _this_ woman.  
  
And she knew exactly how to play it all off.  
  
She looked like a mini force to deal with.  
  
A ball buster who would give just as good as she could take.  
  
Gareth would bet good money she had a diamond encrusted strap-on in her petite, mint green Dolce and Gabbana satchel and she would give Gareth the ride of his life.  
  
The only bits of color were a deep, dark rose, a sincerely stark shade of red on that perfect and full mouth.  
  
If truth be told, Gareth was pretty sure that was the most perfect, well actually, the _second_ most perfect mouth he had ever seen.  
  
The first pair belonged to the man whom he had come to the nightclub to forget.  
  
That was when it hit him like that proverbial ton of bricks.  
  
The awkward, yet enticing, way she stood.  
  
The slight bow to her legs.  
  
The way she kept her head downturned, yet her sharp cheekbones were still highly visible.  
  
The way that damnable, adorable fur headband came right down to her beautiful eyes that kept scanning everywhere.  
  
“Hey Rick!” Gareth called out.  
  
Gareth watched as his new neighbor’s head snapped up quickly and Rick’s deer-in-the-headlight’s stare commanded his attention.  
  
Rick made his way straight for Gareth quickly.  
  
“Trying to catch johns again Rick?” Gareth chuckled as he drained his drink and slammed his glass down on the bar.  
  
“Another perp.  Different kind,” Rick said in a low voice as he looked around him cautiously.  
  
“Well I didn’t think you were doing this because you actually _liked_ dressing in drag,” Gareth winked.  
  
Sighing, Rick’s bare shoulders slumped in defeat.  
  
Gareth felt slightly guilty for finding it as alluring as he did.  
  
He ordered two shots from the bartender.  “Two White Gummy Bears.”  
  
“That supposed to be funny?” Rick groused.   
  
“Thought it might be more appropriate,” Gareth shrugged as he took in the whiteness of Rick’s outfit.  “Don’t worry.  It’s mostly vodka.  They’re yummy.”  
  
“Anyway, there’s this guy,” Rick started as he looked around the club, slugging back the shot Gareth had ordered for him.  “Oh, that’s _good_ ,” he said as he licked his lips.  
  
“Okay Rick.  You shouldn’t do that,” Gareth said, his brow furrowed in concern.  
  
“Why?  What’d I do this time?” Rick pouted.  
  
“A woman that looks like you in that pretty get-up, who could pound a shot down like that?” Gareth said.  “You’re gonna have every available male buying you drinks all night.”  
  
“Anyway,” Rick said as he pushed the shot glass away from him, Gareth signaling for another round, “I’m looking for this guy.  He’s pickin' up these rich women at the more upscale nightclubs.  He’s been at this one more times than not…”  
  
“Does he rough ‘em up?” Gareth asked as he drank his shot down, Rick following suit, slamming the shot glass down on the counter, rim down.  
  
Gareth noticed some of the men around him taking notice and murmuring amongst themselves.  
  
“Seriously Rick.  You need to slow down,” Gareth said as he put his hand on his bare arm, noting the way Rick’s skin broke out into goosebumps at the simple contact.  
  
Gareth shuddered and pulled back.  
  
He then signaled for another round, the bartender smiling at him as he did so.  “Two Alice in Wonderlands.”  
  
“Sounds like some damn girlie drink,” Rick grumbled.  
  
“Believe me, it’s not,” Gareth said as he shook his head.  “So you were saying…”  
  
“No, he don’t rough ‘em up,” Rick grimaced as he brought the shot glass to his lips.  
  
Those very red lips.  
  
Rick downed the shot once again.  “Oh God, I so needed that.  What the hell is in these things?  Know what?  Never mind.  He tags ‘em.”  
  
“Tags… _tags_ them?!” Gareth sputtered, as he threw back the shot.  
  
Rick’s eyes were starting to glaze over.  
  
And he still had a small droplet of the Tequila-mixed drink on his top lip.  
  
If Gareth had wanted, he could have leaned over and licked the damn droplet off his lips.  
  
Gareth ordered another round.  
  
He wanted to make sure he was good and toasted on his way to hell.  
  
“He targets,” Rick started before his brows narrowed in confusion.  “What were we talking ‘bout?”  
  
“Your perp,” Gareth said.  
  
“Oh yeah!  He targets these women who dress up in these really expensive clothes… _designer_ clothes,” Rick said.  “They’re…oh what was the word Michonne and Andrea used…”  
  
“Haute Couture,” Gareth prompted as he threw back his shot.  
  
“Yeah that’s it!  _Hot coat tour_ ,” Rick said.  
  
Gareth decided not to correct him.  
  
Especially not when Rick was biting his bottom lip in that thoroughly captivating way, no doubt probably trying to chew the lipstick right off his mouth.  
  
Another round appeared and Rick threw back the shot, wiping his mouth with his forearm.  
  
Several men had now taken notice, approaching the bar.  
  
“So’s he picks ‘em up, walks ‘em somewhere dark, like an alley, and spray paints their stupid high-priced clothes,” Rick said as he leaned over the bar, his short’s-clad ass prominently on display as he made himself more comfortable on the stool, gently swaying back and forth.  
  
“Wait.  I’ve heard of him,” Gareth said.  “The Seventh Avenue Tagger.  Right?”  
  
“Yep.  That’s the asshole,” Rick said, as another round made its way to the bar.  “Which I still don’t get.  He ain’t never tagged no one anywhere _near_ Seventh Avenue.”  
  
“No,” Gareth said.  “It’s a reference to Fashion Avenue…in New York,” he continued as he looked at Rick’s blank face.  “Never mind.”  
  
He knew Rick wasn’t the fashion savvy type, but Gareth suspected it wasn’t Rick’s obtuseness that was causing him to not bother explaining.  
  
He suspected that Rick was just plain wasted by this point.  
  
Gareth held up the next shot, saluted Rick, and downed their drinks in one shot.  
  
“So, no other women on the force could have got all,” Gareth said as he waved his hands up and down at Rick, “ _dolled up_ and done the same thing?”  
  
“All the other women on the force’ve been _made_ ,” Rick said as he looked at the empty shot glass wistfully.  
  
“Hey, we’ll take some B-52’s!” Gareth called out to the bartender.  
  
“Ain’t that a girlie drink too?” Rick slurred.  
  
“Maybe it’s cuz you’re so pretty tonight,” Gareth smiled.  “So…all the women on the force have been made.  Made into what?”  
  
Okay, so now he was starting to sound obtuse as well.  
  
“Tagger spotted them a mile away,” Rick said as he grabbed the shot and slugged it down.  
  
“Who did _you_ all up?” Gareth asked.  
  
“Michonne and Andrea,” Rick chuckled.  “Andrea said she had a white and black phase.  What in the hell is that?” he scoffed.  “Anyway, she got the outfit for herself a few months back.  Didn’t like all the white so much.  Don’t tell her I said this though,” Rick said as he leaned over and whispered into Gareth’s ear, making all the hair on his body stand on end, “’s kinda loose fittin’ on me.”  
  
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gareth smiled.   
  
He liked right where his balls were, thank you very much.  
  
“Um, you should probably call it a night now Rick,” Gareth said.  “If you did meet this guy, you’re in no condition to…”  
  
“Aw hell, can’t believe I got drunk on the job.  I _never_ do that!” Rick whined as he looked back at Gareth so forlornly.  
  
He looked so sad.  
  
Gareth wanted to take him home.  
  
Take him back to that ridiculously furnished apartment of his and into that garish bedroom, lay him on that ornate bed and start stripping Rick of all of his designer clothing one by one, until he was left in nothing but the furry boots, headband and that pearl choker.  
  
Gareth could imagine quite clearly fucking into Rick from behind savagely, one hand clenched tightly onto that pearl choker as he pulled Rick’s head back forcefully so he could nibble thoroughly on one of his ears.  
  
God, he was a sick man.  
  
He needed to stop thinking like that.  
  
He loved the whole naughty fantasy right up until an image of his head mounted on the wall above Merle’s favorite leather chair popped into his head.  
  
“Come on Rick.  I think it’s time for you to go home,” Gareth said as he tried to lead Rick away from the bar.  
  
“I can’t.  I gotta catch this guy,” Rick whined even as he got up from his perch and started following him out the door, Gareth looking at all the other men who had started to congregate around Rick.   
  
“Sorry boys.  She’s going home with me,” Gareth said as he tried to elbow his way out of the bar.  
  
They were very close to the exit when a man inserted himself between them and the door.  
  
The hunter had come home.  
  
“Why hello Daryl,” Gareth sighed.  
  
“The girls ratted me out, huh?” Rick huffed.  
  
“Yep,” Daryl nodded as he toed the ground.  “Weren’t about to let you get yourself into another pickle.”  
  
“‘M a big boy now,” Rick grumbled.  “‘Member?  Gareth even said so,” he said as he pointed somewhere in the vicinity of Gareth, who was trying desperately to hold the inebriated cop up.  
  
“Says the man wearing _girl’s_ clothing,” Daryl groused.  
  
Gareth watched as a few of the more persistent men from the bar had started to circle the trio.  
  
“What the fuck _you_ all looking at?!” Daryl yelled at the men.  
  
And that was the end of _that_ problem as all the men scattered and decided they had better places to be.  
  
“Can we go outside now?” Rick asked.  “I need some air.”  
  
The men made their way outside and into an alley next to the club.  
  
Daryl took in the sorry state of his new neighbor as he leaned against the building.  
  
“Did you fucking get Rick drunk?!” Daryl yelled at Gareth, all the fury he had directed at Rick’s possible suitors back at the bar now turned on him.  
  
Oh God.  
  
He hoped when his head was mounted on that wall that he at least had a nice view out the window.  
  
“No!” Gareth exclaimed vehemently.  “Yes…sorta…what was the question?”  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Daryl snarled.  
  
“Me?  What’s wrong with _me?!_ ” Gareth sputtered before he launched into one of his tirades.  “Well _excuse_ the ever-living fuck outta me for being a walking _hard-on_ for the past few days!”  
  
Just then, an elderly couple walked past the trio.   
  
“Nice evening,” Gareth said as he nodded at the couple before returning his attention to Daryl.  
  
“That ain’t no damn excuse,” Daryl shot back.  
  
“’S okay Daryl.  It ain’t his fault,” Rick said dejectedly as he swayed before the two men, before slumping against the wall.   
  
“Aw Rick,” Daryl said, “you shouldn’t do that.  You’re gonna get your pretty outfit all dirty.”  
  
Rick sputtered indignantly before rubbing his ass repeatedly on the wall.  “ _Now_ my pretty outfit’s dirty!  What in the hell am I doing?!” he yelled at the night.  “This’s the second goddamned time them assholes at the fucking precinct got me in drag!  Look at me!  I got fur on my damn head and fur on my feet!  I’m a goddamned giant walking Q-Tip!”  
  
Gareth looked over at Daryl, who seemed to be stuck in some kind of daze as his eyes kept sweeping over Rick.

He had been so busy being stuck in his own head, he hadn't noticed Daryl's perusal of Rick.  
  
“I look like some kind of…of _snow bunny_!” Rick pouted.  “And the damn lace panties Michonne made me wear so I wouldn’t have panty lines are giving me a wedgie something awful,” he said as he bounced around and fished said wedgie out of his ass.  “Why do women do this to themselves?  I mean, why’re panty lines so bad?”  
  
“You…you’re wearing lace…lace _panties_ ,” Daryl swallowed audibly, “is it a thong under…under there?”  
  
“That’s what she called it,” Rick grimaced.  
  
And now Gareth thought, his fantasy was complete.  
  
He could go home and jerk off to that image for days.  
  
Of course, he wasn’t sure if he was even going to _get_ home at this point.  
  
Daryl looked like he was about to start hyperventilating.  
  
Where was a paper bag when you needed one?  
  
“Daryl?  You okay?” Gareth asked.  
  
“Just give me a minute,” Daryl said as he held his hand out.  “And what’s that… _thing_ you got ‘round your neck,” he asked, his voice becoming more hoarse as he gazed hungrily at the pearl choker.  
  
And now Gareth’s fantasy had shifted to include Daryl, who was now the one _fucking_ Rick from behind as he held his head steady by grabbing onto the choker while Rick sucked on Gareth’s cock with that beautiful, sinful mouth of his.  
  
Shaking his head clear of the erotic vision, he noticed another man had approached the trio.  
  
“These gentlemen botherin’ you miss?” the man asked.  
  
“Aw hell 'governor.'  Get the fuck outta here!” Daryl groused.  
  
“Rick?” Philip said as he took in their tipsy neighbor.  “What in the sam hell is going on here?!”  
  
“Just go home you old pervert,” Daryl barked.  
  
“ _I’m_ the pervert?  I’m not the one in drag with the two guys fighting over me!” Philip huffed as he walked away.  
  
“Well, now my night’s complete!” Rick mumbled.  “Seriously!  Why am I even after this asshole?” he shouted.  “This guy don’t even piss me off.  If them stupid women don’t want their ‘high culture’…”  
  
“Haute couture,” Gareth corrected.  
  
“Yeah, that…gettin' all messed up and ruined, then they should wear a big, plastic tarp over ‘em, so’s everyone can see their fancy duds but they can’t get ‘em dirty,” Rick finished as he crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“You want women to wear what amounts to plastic slipcovers over their clothes?” Gareth sputtered.  “Like they were Grandma’s favorite sofa?”  
  
“’S not the worst idea,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Actually, yeah, it just might be,” Gareth said.  
  
“Lets go home,” Rick said.  “I’m done for tonight.”  
  
They all started to make their way out of the alley when a kid suddenly came out of nowhere and snatched Rick’s purse just as he was bending over to retrieve it, running away with his newly acquired treasure.  
  
“Hey!  All my shit’s in there!” Rick said sadly.  
  
“I’ll get it,” Daryl called back as he took off after the purse snatcher.  
  
“No.  I’ll get it!” Gareth yelled back as he followed Daryl.  
  
“I said _I’d_ get Rick’s purse!” Daryl barked.  
  
“I’m faster than you Grandpa,” Gareth snickered.  
  
Gareth stopped running when he realized they were both fighting over Rick’s purse.  
  
That, and Daryl almost tripped over the stupid thing where it lay in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
“Guess he wasn’t interested in it after all,” Gareth said as he watched Daryl pick up the dainty satchel.  
  
“Everything’s still in here,” Daryl said as he took a look inside.  “Gun, badge, phone, wallet, some lipstick and wipes…what in the _hell_ is he fucking carrying in here?!”  
  
“Sounds like your average well stocked cop’s purse,” Gareth scoffed. 

Gareth was suddenly glad he hadn't bet on that whole strap-on being in the purse now that he thought about it.

Then again, Rick didn't exactly need one.

“Why’d the guy take it then?” Gareth asked.  
  
“Dunno…unless it was a,” Daryl started before they heard a loud roar coming from the direction they had just been in, “a _diversion_.”  
  
“Oh shit!” Gareth exclaimed before running after Daryl, who was headed back to where they had just left Rick.  
  
And sure enough, there stood their neighbor, his furry boot-clad foot pushed into the back of a young man who was sprawled on the ground, a can of red spray paint in one grasping hand.  
  
“I was bending over,” Rick growled, as he dug his foot in deeper, “when this fucker came and _tagged_ my ass.  Andrea’s gonna kill me,” he winced.  
  
Rick turned around and showcased the ruined pair of white shorts.  
  
“How bad is it?” Rick pouted.  
  
“The fucker painted a huge ‘A’ back there,” Daryl barked.  
  
“An A?!” Rick yelled as he screamed down at the man below his foot.  “An _‘A?’_   Who in the fucking hell am I?!  Hester Prynne?!  Are you Nathaniel _fucking_ Hawthorne?!  Are you implying somethang ‘bout my virtue?  Why a goddamned ‘A?!’”  
  
“Could just stand for ‘ass,’” Daryl shrugged.   “I mean…he tagged your…you know… _ass_.”  
  
“Or as in prime ‘grade A’ ass,” Gareth smiled.  “You do look quite fetching in those shorts Rick.”  
  
“Not helping Gareth,” Rick growled as he dug his boot in deeper into the man’s back.  
  
“High priced designer fashion is for all, not just the materialistic, living beyond their means, _bourgeois_!” the man screamed from the ground.  “Haute couture should be affordable to _anyone_ who has a fashionista within them waiting to come out!”  
  
Rick bent over, tilted his head at the man and snarled, “then it wouldn’t be high end designer clothing, now would it numb nuts?”  
  
“Well…no,” the man sulked.  “I shoulda known this was a set-up.”  
  
“‘Cause I’m a guy?” Rick asked.  
  
“No, ‘cause I knew you were probably a _cop_ ,” the man said.  “I had no idea _whatsoever_ you were a man under all that fur.”  
  
“Daryl,” Rick said.  “Hand me my purse.”  
  
“You gonna touch up that lipstick?” Gareth asked in all seriousness.  
  
“No!” Rick huffed.  “Gotta call in.  Aw hell.  My track record’s two for two.  Them fuckers are gonna keep dressing me in drag if I keep catching the perps.”  
  
“You could let me go,” the tagger said, a hopeful smile on his face.  
  
“Shut up,” Rick murmured as he called in to his precinct.  
  
Well, Gareth thought, the night wasn’t a complete bust.  
  
Out of the men there in the alley, at least one of them got to tap Rick’s ass tonight.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used the titles of 2 different episodes from season 4.
> 
> And once again, I sincerely apologize to Andrew Lincoln.
> 
> I LOVE feedback and yes, why I am a bit perverted and no, I don't plan to keep putting Rick in drag. :)
> 
> Once again, you can check out Rick's outfit [ here, on my tumblr ](http://dementedqueen.tumblr.com/post/133672658423/this-is-the-outfit-rick-is-wearing-in-my-latest).


	22. INTERLUDE:  How the Grickyl Stole Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Yes I'm back. And I'm going back to what works. Smaller chapters and writing an hour a day.
> 
> So stay tuned for more.
> 
> There is some Rick/Daryl and Rick/Daryl/Gareth in this. Trust me on this. I swear. All will be revealed. *laughs sinisterly*

 

 

 

Gareth’s POV

 

 

  
Gareth ran frantically into Rick’s apartment, his chest heaving up and down as he panted heavily, thoroughly out of breath.

Of course, he stopped breathing altogether at the strange yet not unwelcome sight that greeted him as he crossed over the threshold.

Point in fact, the events seemed to almost transpire in a slow motion kind of way.

“Uh guys,” Gareth stuttered.

“You grow up in a barn?! Shut the damn door!” Daryl growled out as he continued to…

Gareth had to blink several different times to make sure of what he was _actually_ witnessing.

Nevertheless, in this universe, what Daryl happened to be doing could only be described as _fucking_ Rick from behind.

“Um, I ran up here,” Gareth swallowed as he stared transfixed, “because I was,” he stuttered, watching as Daryl slowly fucked in and out of a bent over Rick, the other man holding on tightly to the back of the garish couch in the middle of the room, “I was in the middle of this, this _thing_ …and there was shooting, and…and the Christmas tree salesman was this cop…”

Daryl stopped for the briefest of moments and looked directly at Gareth, thoroughly dumbfounded. Rick had managed to lift his head as well and tilted it in his direction. “It ain’t Christmas,” Daryl said as he continued to look at Gareth in confusion.

“Yeah I know that,” Gareth started.

“Sounds like the opening to _Lethal Weapon_ ,” Rick snickered before the tiny laugh turned into a moan as Daryl commenced thrusting in and out of the man, establishing a languid rhythm once again.

“Are you sure it’s not Christmas guys?” Gareth asked. “Because…um…Daryl’s wearing a Santa hat,” he said as he pointed to the red and white furry thing sitting atop the man’s head.

“Oh yeah! I am. Ho! Ho! Ho!” Daryl chuckled, as he punctuated every harsh thrust into Rick with the aforementioned “Ho!”

“And then I ran after this kid who, like, _stole_ a toothbrush from the mini mart and there were these ice skaters,” Gareth said.

“That’s _Home Alone_ ,” Rick sighed, his eyes closed in bliss as Daryl bent down to nuzzle at his ear while maintaining his slow pace.

“So the guy emptying his chemical toilet from his RV while calling out ‘Merry Christmas! Shitter’s full!’” Gareth said.

“ _Christmas Vacation_!” both men said in unison, neither one breaking their stride.

Gareth had to stop and wonder when he had missed a turn somewhere and ended up in some strange kind of limbo where he happened upon various scenes of those cherished 80’s Christmas movies of his youth.

“I saw a baby alpaca in the hallway,” Gareth said, almost too quietly, his mind shutting down rapidly with each thing he uttered as he stared in rapt fascination at the scene before him.

“Oh! That’s Tyreese’s new companion animal,” Rick said.

“What about the rabbits then,” Gareth asked.

This was just getting too weird.

Although the alpaca was by far, the most adorable thing he had _ever_ seen in his life.

“That’s what the cookbook’s for,” Daryl said, as he nodded toward a book on the end table titled _Who Fried Roger Rabbit?_ It had a picture of the cartoon rabbit trussed and sitting on a serving platter, an apple in his mouth with crosses for his eyes.

“Yeah alright,” Gareth said, strangely satisfied with the answer and yet still not addressing the elephant in the room.

He figured he might as well go for broke. “So when did you two…”

“Gareth! Shut the fuck up and get over here!” Daryl groused. “Rick’s loud so’s you need to keep his mouth busy.”

Holy Fuck! Maybe it really _was_ Christmas!

“You don’t have to ask me twice!” Gareth said as he realized Daryl hadn’t actually asked him but _demanded_ and wondered if Daryl was always such a bossy top.

Gareth jumped in front of the couch, Rick’s head in the perfect angle to suck on his very aching, very _erect_ cock.

He unzipped himself and fed Rick his straining erection, the man wrapping those delicious lips around his member.

It was exactly what he had been dreaming of.

Yes, it really was Christmas.

“You okay with this Rick?” Gareth asked Rick breathlessly as he looked down at the man.

Rick continued to suck on and around his cock, moaning as Daryl continued to thrust into him from behind.

“He can’t talk now, his mouth’s full,” Daryl chuckled darkly. “’S okay. He ain’t done enough stress sucking for the day.”

The young man watched as Rick moved his mouth up and down on him, then pulled off and licked around his shaft as if his cock was a goddamned lollipop.

Gareth managed to sneak a look over at Rick’s glass jar of lollipops. He swore then and there that he would keep the man’s jar well stocked.

“Fuck he’s tight,” Daryl growled while pulling Rick’s head off Gareth’s swollen cock and bending it backward at an odd angle so Daryl could kiss Rick solidly on the lips.

Despite the absence of Rick’s wonderful mouth, watching the scene unfold before him, the way both men were kissing each other, Gareth would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on even more than he thought humanly possible.

The kissing was filthy and sloppy and oh so dirty.

It was _delicious_.

Gareth’s enraptured stupor was broken when Daryl released Rick and the man went back to sucking on Gareth’s cock, taking it farther back into his throat.

They established their rhythm, with Daryl slowly fucking in and out of Rick while he in turn, continued to suck on Gareth.  At some point, Daryl’s thrusts had quickened, becoming more brutal. He became fully primal, thrusting into Rick savagely. It was then that Gareth felt Rick start to convulse, a full body shiver, and his mouth clamped down tightly onto Gareth’s cock while Rick’s eyes rolled back into his head.

Rick was coming and by the sounds of Daryl’s exclamations of ‘Holy Fuck!’ and ‘Oh God he’s sucking me in!’ it appeared Daryl was too.

And while Daryl was thrusting in and out of Rick ferociously, riding out his explosive orgasm, and Rick was whimpering through his, before gagging on his cock that was deep in Rick’s mouth, Gareth came too, spilling into the man’s mouth.

There was so much, Rick started to cough some back up, some of it dribbling down his chin as he continued to lick Gareth’s cock clean.

As Gareth came down from the high of his orgasm, he noticed Rick trying to say something around his cock, his mumbling quite incoherent.

“What Rick? What?” he asked as he ran his hand roughly, yet not unkindly, through Rick’s damp curls, his hand feeling so heavy as he stroked the other man languidly.

“He said to to _wake the fuck up_!” Daryl yelled into Gareth’s face.

Gareth woke suddenly, bolting straight up from the place he occupied.

A soft, lumpy place.

A place upholstered in a hideous, large yellow flower pattern.

Garish really.

_Oh God._

Just then a light came on.

Gareth jumped again as the room became awash in light.

The room, he might add, that was most definitely _not_ a room in his own apartment.

“Gareth?!” the startled man croaked disbelievingly, the man who happened to reside in the apartment in fact.

“Hey…um…Rick,” Gareth stuttered, waving his hand helplessly.

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” Rick yelled, standing in the middle of the living room, his blue silk pajama pants riding so very enticingly on his narrow hips and showcasing Rick’s ample bottom.

“Well,” Gareth laughed nervously (while shaking off the image of Rick half naked in silk) before swallowing down whatever lump was lodged in his throat.

Looking down at the large wet patch on his own pajama pants, Gareth was pretty sure the lump was made of sixty percent embarrassment and forty percent awkwardness.

Gareth wasn’t sure how he could possibly answer Rick’s question. He didn’t think, ‘having a wet dream and coming on your couch’ would be a suitable response.

Of course, in looking down to take in his own state of dress, or undress as the case may have been, that led Rick to look down at Gareth’s predicament as well.

He knew Rick was at times one of the most oblivious men he had ever met.

However, this was not one of those times.

The look that came over Rick’s face would have been priceless had it not been directed at him.

“Did you…did you,” Rick stuttered, “did you just… _soil_ my couch, by…by,” he asked, his head tilting to the side, his hand waving in the air.

Oh God, it was Rick’s head tilt.

He was a condemned man.

“I didn’t mean to. I was…I was sleep walking. I must have been sleep walking…and I _slept_ walked straight into your apartment!” Gareth sputtered.

Good defense.

Maybe if he threw himself on the mercy of the court, he could get a quick execution.

By the look on Rick’s disgusted face however, he was sure a drawing and quartering were still on the docket.

“Sleep walking?!” Rick yelled incredulously as he pointed to the door. “Were you sleep _picking_ the lock as well. I locked that door before I went to bed.”

“That would be coz of me,” a voice said from the kitchen area.

Both men turned as one to the voice they knew so well.

“Merle!” Rick squawked. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

“The lady who lived here before…she gave me a key. Said I could use her coffee maker anytime. Makes the _best_ damn cup of coffee in the whole damn building,” Merle said proudly as he held up one of Rick’s coffee mugs, a thing that had Woody from Toy Story decorating the side with the words ‘Howdy. Howdy. Howdy.’

“There!” Gareth said as he pointed to Merle. “The door was unlocked.”

Good.

Deflection.

Make Merle the bad guy.

“Yeah, you feel better now?” Merle asked as he took another sip from the mug.

“Well…yes, that explains… _wait_!” Rick sputtered. “ _No_! No that does not make me feel better. How long you been coming into my kitchen in the morning while I been sleeping?!”

Merle looked deep in thought. “When did’ya move in?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Rick said hesitantly.

“Well, there you go,” Merle said as he took another sip.

“Oh God,” Rick moaned.

Just then banging could be heard on the other side of the front door. “What’s going on in there?” Daryl yelled through the door.

“Come on in Daryl. Everyone else has,” Rick said, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Great.

Because inviting in the one man in the whole fucking building who would no doubt kill him for sleep walking into Rick’s apartment and having a wet dream on his ugly couch was a sound idea.

“What the fuck?!” Daryl said as he took in the scene around him, his eyes narrowing in on Gareth who managed to put his hands in front of his crotch.

Of course, just as it had with Rick, it caused Daryl to hone right onto the guilty area as well.

“Dude!” Alex called as he came running into the apartment. “Were you sleep walking again?”

“No you moron!” Gareth shouted at his brother. “We all decided to have a slumber party!”

“Bummer,” Alex pouted. “I coulda brought the ouija board dude. Coulda tried contacting dad again…”

“Alex! Yes! I was sleep walking!” Gareth shouted at his brother.

“And he had a wet dream on Rick’s couch,” Merle supplied happily. “Soiled it too.”

If Daryl’s eyes had been outfitted with lasers, Gareth would have surely been cut in half, right there on the spot.

“I was dreaming…um…about Christmas weirdly enough,” Gareth chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his head, looking around innocently, trying as hard as he could to avoid Daryl’s evil stare. “Christmas dinner with…um…roast.”

 _Spit_ roast to be exact.

He decided to leave out that as Daryl continued to stare him down.

“That musta been _some_ roast,” Merle whistled.

“You have no idea,” Gareth said under his breath.

“And whadda you doing here Merle?” Daryl growled.

“Coffee,” Merle said as he lifted the mug. “At least I wasn’t soiling Rick’s couch!”

“He’s got you there dude,” Alex said somberly as he addressed Gareth.

“Well, this is all been real fun,” Rick said as he took in the people standing around his living room, before he looked down at himself, “but I’m feeling a bit exposed here right now, so everybody can…just you know… _get the hell outta my apartment_.”

It was the sinister low voice at the end of the request, accompanied by the dreaded head tilt that ended the conversation.

“Sorry Rick,” Gareth said contritely as he backed away slowly to the door, Merle walking toward the door as well while holding the coffee mug.

“Hey that's _my_ mug!” Rick exclaimed.

Alex opened the door and there on the threshold, looking up with it’s huge eyes, batting its ridiculously long eyelashes, was the baby alpaca from his dream.

“Wait,” Gareth said, “the alpaca’s _real_?!”

God, he hoped that didn’t mean they were going to be eating rabbit for the next week.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go. I'm a bit rusty I think so go easy on the comments.
> 
> I need to shout out to bella_monoxide who was a second set of eyes for me on this today. Thank you Bella! *smooches*


	23. May the Farce be with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I blame Mishafer for the next few chapters (but in a good way).
> 
> She put the idea of the road trip into my head.
> 
> I'm just exorcising it out now. :)

 

Rick’s POV

  
Rick sighed wearily as he unbuttoned his police issue shirt, practically tearing the thing away from his chest in his haste to rid himself of the heavily starched fabric after a full and tiresome day on the force.

He really hated the Atlanta Police Department uniform.

He missed his other uniform from his time as a deputy Sheriff for King County.

Rick loved the way the neutral tones of the soft fabric hugged his body and allowed him to perform a hard day’s work, which usually required him to spend most of his time out in the sun.

And then there was the hat.

He really _missed_ that hat.

It took him a long time to train it to sit on his head just right, but train it he had.

When he had left the force, he gave the hat to Carl, the boy having had run around in it when Rick was off duty. He had loved wearing it just as much as his father had.

Rick never talked about it much, but one of the more insignificant reasons he wanted to make detective was so he wouldn’t have to wear the official looking and overly confining uniform as the rest of the force, who seemed to be more than happy to preen around like peacocks in the damn things.

The Chief had reassured Rick that a promotion to detective was within his grasp, having had successful arrests in just the short period of time he had been with the force.

Of course, two of those arrests were made while he was most definitely _not_ wearing the standard issue uniform but in actual fact, women’s clothing.

Rick wasn’t sure which he preferred over the other.

As he pulled the undershirt off his weary body, contemplating his advancement on the force, and the fact that it was Friday and he wouldn’t have to wear the uniform again until Monday, a frantic knocking could be heard at his front door.

His short won relief of disrobing had now changed to that of trepidation.

Rick hoped something terrible wasn’t happening. He wanted a calm, uneventful weekend, spent taking Carl to the movies and playing with Judith’s toes.

Maybe he would call Daryl and find out if he wanted to go to the movies as well.

Time spent with his children and Daryl, a man who he may not have known long, but felt a great affinity for, sounded wonderful.

It sounded like heaven.

Except for the drastic pounding on his door.

Penguins in the streets of Atlanta?

Gophers holed up in a barn in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere?

Had Tyreese’s new baby alpaca decided it would be better on its own?

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Rick sighed as he opened the door.

“Ooh la la,” Rosita cooed as she walked into the apartment, circling around Rick as he allowed her passage, followed closely by a smiling Tara. “Hello Officer _Goodbar_.”

What was it about the neighbors in the accursed building that made him feel as if he was always naked.

Then again, he considered what he happened to be wearing, or _not_ wearing as was the case, as he suddenly realized he was standing in nothing but his pressed uniform slacks and gun belt.

“Just got off work,” Rick explained, exhaustion heavy in his voice. “Please tell me there’s no emergency.”

“No emergency,” Tara shrugged. “We just wanted to make sure we weren’t seen by Eugene.”

“You’re hiding from _Eugene_?!” Rick scoffed.

“As the newest member of the family,” Rosita explained with that same level of tedium she seemed to add to everything she talked about, “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

Rick scanned the area around the two girls. “Are they invisible?”

Rick wouldn’t put it past this place.

Tara took a deep breath before she showed the thing she had been hiding behind her back.

 _This_.

This was just too much.

Rick blinked a few times before he set his eyes upon it again.

It was about half the size of Tara.

It was a doll.

A doll in the image of Princess Leia in her slave girl costume, when she was being held by Jabba the Hutt from _Return of the Jedi_.

Most people would call it a body pillow.

And it had been completely handcrafted in needlepoint.

It was, truth be told, hideous.

“What…?” Rick managed to squeak out as he gaped at the thing in front of him.

“Freaky, ain’t it?” Rosita droned while her lip curled as she looked the thing up and down, Tara holding the thing out as far away from herself as she could.

“Do I even wanna know?” Rick asked.

It probably had a story.

Everything in the building had a story.

“It’s Eugene’s,” Tara answered as she continued to hold it away.

Eugene’s.

The guy with the mullet and the monotone voice.

Rick hadn’t had much chance to talk to the man since he had met him on the day of Maggie’s wedding but what he remembered of him, he wouldn’t have thought him to be the kind of person who would have such a thing.

On second thought, actually he did seem like the _very_ type of person who would own something like the thing he was staring at.

There was something off about it.

“His grandmother made it for him. He’s had it since high school,” Rosita sneered. “She knew he would probably never have a girlfriend so she made him… _this_.”

“So he could…snuggle with it?” Rick asked hesitantly.

Surely they couldn’t mean…

“Oh, it’s anatomically correct alright,” Tara chirped, a bit too giddily. And with that, Tara lifted the small loin cloth, the tiny article of clothing also having been made out of needlepoint and Rick could see the…

Dear _God_.

It was too much to fathom.

He could barely see the outline of the dark triangle because his brain was too busy flushing out what he had just seen with the strongest solution of bleach known to man.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Tara droned, “thinking about Eugene with this thing or his grandmother needlepointing a completely functioning…”

“Why’s Princess Leia all,” Rick stuttered, interrupting Tara mid-speech, as he took in the large cleavage, exaggerated hips and large ass, “I dunno…it just seems like she’s more voluptuous than I remember her…”

“Yeah,” Rosita scoffed, “his grandmother thought Leia was always too skinny so she took some liberties when making her.”

Apparently Eugene had taken liberties with the doll as well.

Truly, it was a marvel to behold, the craftsmanship of the oddity, the way she had put in so much detail.

But when it all came down to it, it was still a sex doll.

If George Lucas ever got wind of the thing, he would no doubt curse the day he made the first movie.

Hell, he would probably rue the day he entered film school to begin with.

“Shocking, isn’t it?” Rosita quipped. “Suppose you’re gonna say ‘now I’ve seen everything.’”

“Actually, a month ago I would have,” Rick said, resignation in his tired voice as he shrugged. “I would’ve run screaming for the hills. Today, not so much.”

Of course that still left a huge unanswered question.

“Guys? Why’s it here?” Rick asked.

“Well see,” Rosita said, “it started a while back. Abe started it actually. Everyone takes the doll...it drives Eugene _totally_ insane,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Then whoever takes it, poses it in comprising positions all over the apartment building. Then they send the pictures to Eugene’s phone, making him have to go looking for it. Think of it as a fucked up scavenger hunt.”

“That’s actually…mean,” Rick winced, a frown on his face.

“Yeah, well, you still don’t know Eugene well enough yet,” Rosita responded. “Once you get to know him, you won’t think twice about it.”

“Besides,” Tara piped up, “it gets him outta his room.”

“And if he does…you know…what he… _takes liberties with it_ ,” Rick stammered as he waved his hands around pointing at the doll, “then how can you stand walking around with it?”

Rick would have slapped a HAZARDOUS MATERIAL sticker on it while wearing nothing less than a Hazmat suit.

“Oh his grandmother made it completely machine washable,” Rosita responded as she waved her hand in dismissal. “We always grab it with tongs, seal it in a trash bag, then immediately wash it.”

Rick was wondering why his apartment had suddenly been filled with the clean aroma of fabric softener and laundry detergent.

The girls must have just pulled it out of the wash.

Rick sent up a silent prayer to all grandmothers who thought of things like making their creations machine washable. He wouldn’t have wanted that doll in his apartment otherwise.

Then he sent up a silent prayer for all grandmothers and their state of sanity who could even come up with such a terrifying creation in the first place.

“So…why’s it here?” Rick winced, a sinking feeling gathering deep in his gut.

“Because, _new guy_ ,” Rosita said, as she jabbed her finger in the middle of his chest, lifting one eyebrow in a provocative way, “it’s initiation time. You get to pose it somewhere in your apartment, preferably the bed, preferably in some naughty position, take a picture, send it to me and we’ll send it on.”

“But I can’t do that,” Rick said.

He didn’t know the guy, but that still seemed like a dreadful thing to do to the man.

“Aw, he loves it,” Tara stated with reassurance. “Makes him feel part of the group.”

Rick wondered if the tenants couldn’t have done something more productive like playing football with Eugene or Scrabble, not kidnapping his sex doll and posing it…

Once again, Rick just couldn’t finish the thought in his head.

It was all just too much.

Just then, another knock was heard at the door, saving him from his musings on Eugene and the tenants in the building playing keep away with him using Princess Leia, the needlepoint sex doll.

Rick was just about to open the door, when he realized it could be Lori with his children.

There was no way he was about to expose Carl to Princess Leia just yet.

Or Lori for that matter.

“Hide the doll,” Rick demanded of the girls. “That’s probably my wife.”

“She can hear you through the door you know,” Rosita smirked, managing to hide the doll behind Tara.

Rick opened the door only to find Daryl standing on the other side.

“Close enough,” Tara said, a leering smile on her face.

“Could hear you guys on the other side of the door,” Daryl groused angrily to the girls.

“Told you,” Rosita remarked.

“Now why you gonna go and involve Rick in all this?” Daryl asked as he pulled up the doll from behind Tara.

“He’s one of us now,” Tara whined. “He needs to be part of this too.”

“I don’t even like being part of it. Doll is fucking creepy, man. Thinking ‘bout what Eugene gets up to with it,” Daryl shuddered, throwing the doll back at Tara to hide. “Don’t let Carl see that thing.”

And there was Reason Number 345 as to why Rick liked Daryl.

The man was completely in sync with him on certain matters.

Rick never had to explain why he did what he did and for what reason to Daryl.

He just knew.

“Whats up?” Rick asked as he sidled up next to his neighbor.

“Thought your kids would be here by now. Thought maybe we’d all go get a bite to eat,” Daryl shrugged. “There’s this drive-in and it’s pretty cool at night…”

“That sounds like fun!” Tara exclaimed gleefully as she jumped up. “Come on. Let’s pose the Princess here, take her picture and we’ll all go together!”

“Now I haven’t agreed to nothing yet,” Rick insisted as he held out his hand.

“Rick, you _have_ to. We all do it,” Tara whined again.

“Then set her up by the damn coffee maker,” Rick groused. “’S been defiled by Merle every morning so's I hear.”

“Rick,” Rosita sighed.

Just then, another knock was at the door.

Good! His kids were finally here.

“For the last fucking time, hide the damn doll,” Rick whispered harshly. “I ain’t exposing Carl or Judith to… _needlepoint_.”

“Seriously Rick,” Rosita sighed. “They can still hear you through the door.”

As Rick opened the door, he was expecting to see Judith’s happy face or Carl’s indifferent ‘I’m a teenager, what about it’ face.

Instead it was Maggie and Glenn, back from their honeymoon, their faces looking far more relaxed (and sunbunrt) than the last time he had seen them.

Rick had never asked where they had planned on going on their honeymoon but from the looks of it, it had been somewhere tropical.

“I don’t blame you Rick,” Glenn droned. “Nobody should be exposed to _needlepoint_.”

“Guys,” Maggie whined as she reprimanded the girls. “You did _not_ show Rick the doll, didya? You trying to scare the poor man away?!”

Rick would have looked over at Rosita at that moment but dreaded her ‘Told you so’ face.

“Oh my God, you’re back!” Rosita gushed as she went to hug Maggie, while Tara fist bumped Glenn.

Despite everything however, Rick was indeed quite pleased to see the newlywed couple again, both of them beaming from ear to ear. He had actually missed them.

As Rick focused on Maggie’s hair, he noticed it no longer looked as if it had been struck by lightning. In fact, her hair was elegantly coiffed in a short style that framed her face quite agreeably.

“And your hair is so adorable!” Rosita continued to gush as she fingered Maggie’s new do. “Has Beth seen it yet?”

“You guys are the first people we came up to see,” Maggie said.

Rick had to take a moment to wonder why it was that Maggie and Glenn decided to come to his apartment first.

Visions of a hidden camera room somewhere in the basement with Dale watching the monitors in rapt fascination while texting certain people in the know as to where specific tenants would be in the building flashed through Rick’s overly paranoid mind.

“Oh Rick! Daryl! I’m glad you’re both here. Dale said you’d be,” Maggie said quickly.

And then Rick remembered something someone once said.

It’s not whether or not you’re paranoid, but whether you’re paranoid _enough_.

“We have a favor to ask,” Maggie beseeched as she threw each man a beaming smile.

Oh here it comes.

“But I think you might actually like it,” Glenn said as he stood bouncing on his feet.

“Glenn and me, we wanna go on a road trip, up to Virginia, to a bunch of the car dealerships up there. We heard one of the best places to get a car on the whole Eastern seaboard is there,” Maggie explained eagerly. “And we want both of you to go with us.”

“And Daryl, since you know so much about cars, you could look it over. You know, look under the hood, do the thing you do,” Glenn said. “Make sure we’re not getting scammed.”

“I get why you want Daryl to go,” Rick cut in. “But why me? I don’t know nothing ‘bout cars.”

“But you’re so level headed. And shrewd. You know how to make deals,” Glenn said, trying to sell the point home. “And you know when someone’s yanking our chain. So we thought you guys could come with us up there. It’s a seven hour drive. We’ve got some hotel rooms already reserved. It’ll be a fun road trip.”

“I dunno,” Rick hesitated. “I got my kids coming this weekend.”

“They could come,” Maggie interjected.

“Judith,” Rick stated. “You want a baby. On a road trip.”

“Judith is a sweetheart,” Maggie smiled fondly.

“Judith is a sweetheart alright. When she’s playing on her blanket at home, surrounded by her toys with people picking her up every so often,” Rick smirked. “On a seven hour road trip though?”

Visions of an abandoned Rick and Carl standing with Judith on the side of the road somewhere in the middle of South Carolina sprung to mind.

Before Rick could decline the offer of the road trip once again, Philip and Abe walked by the open doorway, peeking their heads in before they just barged their way in.

“What’s this about a road trip?” Abe bellowed.

Rick seriously wondered if the man had a volume control somewhere on him that seemed to be stuck at HIGH permanently.

“It’s just Rick and Daryl and me and Glenn,” Maggie insisted. “Nobody else.”

“We are _so_ not inviting Abe,” Glenn leaned over and whispered in Rick’s ear. “Talk about bossy. Man, the man won’t stop until he gets to where he’s supposed to be going. Fucking relentless.”

“Road trip sounds fun,” Philip stated, not having heard a word Maggie had just said.

“You’re not going neither Philip,” Maggie snapped. “'Cos of you, none of us are allowed in the state of Nebraska no more.”

“Well,” Philip stated in a pleased voice as he fixed his gaze on Maggie, “you’re welcome.” And with that, the ‘Governor’ left the room.

Realizing that this could spiral out of control, Rick needed everyone to focus their attention back on the matter at hand, namely the road trip.

“Okay, everyone who ain’t going on this damn road trip, gotta leave so’s we can discuss the particulars,” Daryl grunted at the remaining people, Abe muttering under his breath about people who couldn’t find their ass with a roadmap as he trudged his way out of the apartment.

“We’re not leaving until we get some pictures of Princess Leia!” Tara demanded, just stopping short of stomping her foot on the ground like a willful child not getting their way.

“And I said,” Rick reiterated, “I ain’t posing a sex doll on my bed like we’re making some porno flick!”

Just then there was a knock at the open door and a stunned Shane and Carl were standing there.

Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about them hearing him through the door.

If there really was a hidden camera room, Rick wondered if he could give Dale a kick back so he could maybe text him when his family stepped through the lobby doors, just so he could stop putting himself in these awkward and humiliating situations.

“Gotta party going on?” Shane inquired as he smiled nervously while walking into the apartment.

Rick noticed Tara and Rosita hiding the doll behind their backs.

“So what Rick?” Shane snickered as he leaned into Rick’s personal space, taunting him. “You can’t get it on with someone real so you gotta make it with a sex doll?”

“Actually,” Rosita purred in the most exquisitely seductive voice Rick had ever had the pleasure of hearing, “he likes to call _me_ his sex doll. Don’t you sweetie?” she said as she rubbed up alongside of Rick’s naked chest, stroking her fingers through the curls on his head.

Oh Lord.

Not this again.

Although it got the desired effect, Shane’s mouth once again hanging open in shock.

Rick really needed to do something nice for the girls in the building.

It was then, at that point in time, with Rick still trying to wind down from a long, tiresome week on the force, a potential road trip seeming to be on the horizon, Shane’s highly enjoyable flummoxed state and sex dolls, that he finally truly noticed Carl.

And Rick’s heart stopped.

It honest to God, _stopped_ beating.

“ _Carl?!_ ” Rick trembled as he ran up to his son.

For there stood Carl, his son, his baby boy (who may have grown into a tall teenager with a perpetually bored look on his face but would always still be his boy), a slightly anxious air about him, with his old Sheriff’s hat sitting atop his head.

And a large bandage wrapped around one of his eyes.

“What the hell happened to your _eye_!?” Rick thundered as he looked at his boy’s face, half of it hidden behind the accursed dressing.

“Now Rick,” Shane said, obviously trying to diffuse the situation. “Relax…”

“Relax?! _Relax?!_ ” Rick hissed. “Carl’s only got _one eye_!”

“He’s still got both of ‘em,” Shane asserted. “He just sorta had a paint balling accident. A friend shot him with the gun… _accidentally_.”

“He got shot by a paintball gun?” Rick screeched as he turned his head to Carl. “Wait…”

“Great,” Carl sighed, “here it comes.”

“Why weren’t you wearing your protective eye gear?” Rick demanded from his son.

“I just took them off for a second!” Carl replied in his defense.

“A second? _Really_?” Rick barked. “And what? This kid just happened to be waiting for that moment…”

“No dad,” Carl started.

“Pfft! That’s what I said,” Shane huffed as he shook his head. “Lori was supposed to be keeping watch on them…”

Of course.

“I swear!” Rick said as he threw his hands in the air, turning to the others. “Story of my damn life. Lori was always running ‘round yelling ‘Who’s watching Carl?’ and ‘Where’s Carl?’ and ‘Have you seen Carl?’ My life was a damn _Where’s Waldo_ book! It was just the one kid. How hard could it’ve been!?”

“Fuck Dad! I’m thirteen. Don’t need mom to always watch me,” Carl fumed.

“Carl,” Rick said as he tilted his head and fixed his intense stare on his son, “cover your eye and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

“I can’t!” Carl huffed. “I won’t be able to see anything.”

“Exactly! 'Cos you only got _one eye_!” Rick responded before asking more calmly. “When’s it gonna heal?”

“Doctor said a week. But look. Pirate,” Carl smiled as he pointed to his face.

“Don’t worry brother. After this stunt, we’ll be keeping an _eye_ on him,” Shane said, smirking as he looked over at Carl, the boy sneering at the bad joke.

“Shane,” Carl whined.

“He don’t appreciate the one eye jokes right now,” Shane snickered, once again getting into Rick’s personal space.

“Got it. Fuck with him so he never does something stupid like this again,” Rick chuckled and winked back at Shane.

Rick had winced when Shane had called him brother, an endearment he had been using since he could remember, yet he felt himself falling back into the comfortable place he had been when they had been best friends.

That small moment between him and Shane felt almost _normal_ again.

And then another thought occurred to him.

“Wait. Where’s Judith?” Rick asked, worry setting in once again.

“She’s got an ear infection but it’s nothing you gotta worry about,” Shane reassured. “You know babies get ‘em, so Lori’s gonna keep her this weekend.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Rick said wistfully, missing his baby daughter all the same.

Of course, that meant only one thing.

“Great!” Maggie chimed as she jumped into the conversation. “Well, not that that poor baby’s gotta an ear infection,” she pouted, “but now you don’t gotta worry ‘bout her on the long drive. This is perfect. And Carl can come with us.”

“Where’re we going?” Carl beamed excitedly.

“Road trip to Virginia,” Daryl stated. “Buying these guys a new car.”

“And oh!” Glenn cut in, his face a literal beacon of excitement. “ _Final Fantasy 7: Remake_ is coming out for the PS4. And there’s a game store in the area where they’ll be releasing it a whole two weeks earlier than anywhere else, in the area at least, so I’m gonna be there Sunday morning before they open to get it.”

“Sweet!” Carl said, looking far too delighted.

“Hey! Maybe you can cut to the front of the line. You know, a one-eyed kid can garner a lot of sympathy,” Rick said matter-of-factly as he threw a mocking smile at his son.

“Dad,” Carl whined.

“Aw son,” Rick simpered. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry your _eye_ out.”

“Dad!” Carl pouted.

“Gotta remember that one,” Shane smirked as he ran his hand over his shaved head. “Well I gotta head out now…”

Just as Shane was about to make his good-byes, Eugene popped up at the threshold of his apartment.

Probably looking for his ‘girlfriend.’

“Eugene!” Maggie called out hopefully. “Did you map out everything we asked you to?”

“I most surely did,” Eugene said as he stepped into Rick’s apartment and turned to address Shane. “We have not had the pleasure of meeting.”

“This is Shane,” Rick said. “My…um…”

How was he supposed to introduce Shane now?

Former best friend?

Wife’s new mate?

Carl’s new step-father?

Deputy Sheriff for King county who still got to wear a cool hat?

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard of you,” Eugene stated in that same monotone voice. “You had unlawful carnal knowledge of Rick’s erstwhile wife, which culminated in the termination of their matrimonial amalgamation.”

Well, Rick was pretty sure he would never introduce Shane quite _that_ way.

“Yeah, that would be me. The asshole,” Shane chuckled, slightly self-deprecatingly, once again rubbing his head. He turned to Rick, slightly shamefaced, “so you guys have fun on your trip, and Rick,” he said, as he put a stern hand on Rick’s shoulder, “keep an _eye_ out for Carl.”

“Shane,” Carl moaned yet again, Rick and Shane smirking at the teenager’s distress.

Rick watched his _erstwhile_ best friend leave the apartment building, a small wistful smile on his face.

When he turned around, he noticed Daryl standing right behind him, aiming a small sympathetic smile his way.

“It’s gotta be hard, yeah?” Daryl whispered to Rick.

“Yeah, but it’s getting better,” Rick shrugged. “So what’s Eugene got there?”

‘Besides some huge ass issues’ Rick wanted to add but didn’t.

“This is a map of every car dealership in the state of Virginia, located near the District of Columbia area. I mapped out each one based on the establishment’s location to make your navigation effortless and straightforward,” Eugene said as he held out the map, “I have even pointed out places you might wish to partake your meals at.”

Rick, stunned by the man’s adept ability to gather the information in a manner that would actually be helpful, asked, “What is it exactly you _do_ for a living Eugene?”

“I work at a government institution that secures the future of these United States of America,” Eugene stated proudly.

“He’s a Earth Science teacher at the High School,” Rosita sighed.

Rick hoped Eugene’s class was on the first floor of the school so the students wouldn’t throw themselves out the window during one of his tedious lectures.

“I also do sub-contracting with the NSA,” Eugene added, Rosita in the background rolling her eyes.

“Last month it was the CIA. Month before, it was the FBI,” Daryl leaned down and whispered in Rick’s ear.

“This is so great Eugene!” Maggie gushed as she and Glenn looked over the map. “Thank you so much. And you did it in such a short period of time!”

Whatever Eugene’s issues were, he was still a considerate and thoughtful man who was highly capable and adept.

Rick looked down at the map and realized Eugene had also put the dealership’s star rating on each one, as well as their distinguishing features.

“That’s amazing,” Rick said in admiration. “I don’t think I could have pulled something like this off.”

“That is because I’m smarter than you,” Eugene said in all seriousness before he issued a fond farewell to one and all and left the apartment.

Rick silently pondered what the man had just said.

“Okay,” Rick ordered once he knew Eugene was well out of earshot. “I want you to go grab Judith’s big stuffed unicorn in her room,” he said as he pointed to Daryl. “I want pictures all over the damn apartment with Leia and that damn unicorn,” he said as he addressed Rosita, her eyes lighting up as Rick gave the orders. “It’s got a horn. Get real creative. I want pictures that’ll make Bob Guccione blush.”

“Ooh, I like your train of thought, Officer,” Rosita saluted.

“Oh _train_!” Rick said, suddenly coming up with another brilliant idea. “Maggie! Go get Beth’s teddy bears. Let’s get them guys in on the action too.”

“Right. But we gotta be quick. We need to get on the road,” Maggie warned.

“No problem,” Rick said.

“Hey you guys still going to Virginia then?” Tara asked. “Can you guys bring me back a girlfriend?”

“Seriously?!” Glenn sputtered. “If we could just bring back some random girl, we woulda done that with Eugene _ages_ ago then burn that fucked up doll.”

Which reminded Rick.

“Oh! _Doll_!” Rick shrieked as he saw Tara holding up the nasty thing.

Which in turn reminded him of the impressionable youth in the room.

“Carl!” Rick shouted. “Cover your _eye_!”

“Dad,” Carl whined, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

It was going to be a long road trip, Rick mused.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first off, I would like to thank Bella_monoxide for being my second pair of EYE on this. Thank you sweetheart! 
> 
> Also, you should always wear goggles when paintballing. 
> 
> Bob Guccione is the founder of Penthouse. 
> 
> And lastly, I am very sorry for soiling the image of Princess Leia, Carrie Fisher and the Star Wars franchise.


	24. Fear the Vacationing Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the title of this chapter, I think those of you who have watched FtWD will know of what I speak. For those who haven't watched the series yet, there aren't really spoilers because they won't make sense, but it's still a fun read. :)

 

Rick’s POV

 

Rick jolted awake, trying his best to get his bearings as he surveyed the immediate vicinity around him.

He had awoken to the heady smell of worn leather, an evocative fragrance that seemed to comfort and captivate him in equal parts.

There was no need to look at who the jacket belonged to that he found himself resting quite cozily upon.

Daryl.

Now he remembered where he was.

Road trip.

Virginia.

In an old Jeep Cherokee Chief that the newlyweds had managed to borrow from Dale, Maggie sitting in the front seat, next to Glenn who was driving.

And there was Rick, sandwiched in-between Daryl on one side of the bench seat in back, still not moving from his comfortable place on the man’s chest, and Carl, who happened to be watching the passing scenery in a passive fashion. Rick had chosen that side of the car so his son could gaze out the window more easily, Carl having rolled his eye when he had suggested it.

Rick figured they had probably been on the road for about three hours when he noticed a passing sign that read WELCOME TO ATHENS.

Great.

They were still in Georgia. It had apparently only been an hour.

“How long was I out?” Rick asked as he regarded Daryl, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“‘Bout fifteen minutes,” Daryl chuckled. “Musta had some dream though. You was thrashing around something fierce.”

“God,” Rick moaned. “Yeah. I had a dream Han Solo broke into the damn apartment, trying to rescue Eugene’s _doll._ Then he morphed into Indiana Jones, took the doll and said, ‘this belongs in a museum’ and took off out the damn window. This fucking boulder rolled over on me.”

Rick started snickering as he noticed Daryl’s body shaking with quiet laughter as well.

“Congratulations. You just had your first sex doll dream,” Daryl said. “Mine was scarier though. 'Member yours Glenn?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Yours wasn’t so bad Rick, except for the whole boulder crushing part,” Glenn said, Maggie quietly giggling in the front seat.

Hopefully that would be the end of the talk about Eugene’s steady piece of ass.

“So we gonna drive the whole way tonight?” Rick asked.

“No, we’re stopping in Charlotte,” Maggie said. “It’s the half way point between home and where we’re going. Got rooms and everything. Don’t worry. We’re gonna take care of all the expenses.”

“I don’t know,” Rick shrugged. “I mean, three rooms? You guys just got married. I can help with the cost of my room at least.”

“Yeah,” Daryl piped in. “Can pay for my room as well.”

“Well,” Maggie winced. “See, it’s not really three rooms. More like two.”

Oh.

Rick didn’t need to be a genius to do the math and knew how the rooms, both of them, would be divided.

“The hotels were all booked because of some big antiques show in town so we just figured you and Daryl could hole up together,” Glenn shrugged.

Seriously, Rick didn’t really mind that much.

He really liked Daryl so that wasn’t an issue.

After all, they _did_ sleep together that one time.

Granted, part of the time he had been totally blitzed on cake and the other half he had been completely under due to the effects of the chloroform.

Not to mention he had been absolutely naked at the time.

Rick never forgot about the naked part.

But he wasn’t sure if Daryl would be alright with having to share a room.

Poor guy.

Having to share an apartment with his slightly unbalanced and moronic brother all the time and the scant few moments he was able to get away from Merle was when he went out on his hunting excursions, and even then, he was never quite alone as he had his clients to deal with.

From the distressed look on Daryl’s face, he seemed to not be happy about the whole situation either.

Rick was slightly dismayed that he seemed to be correct in his presumption.

“What was that Daryl?” Rick asked, as he heard a disgruntled muttering under Daryl’s breath.

“ _Said_ ,” Daryl groused as he pointed to Carl, “this one’ll be jumping off the walls.”

Well that was a relief.

Rick had thought, just for a moment, that he had heard something suspiciously like ‘blue balls’ but he knew that couldn’t have been right.

“Hey! I’m thirteen, not three!” Carl fumed, a scowl firmly planted on his face in such a way, there would be no mistake that he would be anything other than a mopey, standard-issue teenager.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Rick grimaced. “Not only do you gotta share a room with me, but cranky pants, One-eye Moody over here too.”

“Dad,” Carl whined as he pulled the hat over his face and slunk down even further into the seat, presumably to sleep for the rest of the trip.

Possibly the whole weekend.

“That’s right son. You should get some shut _eye_ now,” Rick chuckled, Daryl cackling in the background.

“Can’t hear you,” Carl replied in a mocking tone.

“Huh. I thought when one of the senses go, the rest of them get stronger,” Glenn snorted.

Rick and Daryl laughed while Maggie slapped Glenn’s arm playfully.

“I’m really sorry guys,” Maggie said regretfully once the amusement at Carl’s expense had died down, “but we woulda got more rooms if we could.”

“’S okay Maggie,” Daryl muttered before he said something under his breath that sounded like ‘walking hard-on.’

“What?” Rick asked as he turned to face Daryl.

“Said,” Daryl grunted whiled pausing as if in thought, “hope you don’t keep the lights on.”

Maybe Rick needed to get his hearing checked as well.

“So where’d you guys go?” Rick asked as they continued to drive.

“Oh!” Maggie exclaimed. “California and Mexico.”

“They’re crazy out there on the West Coast,” Glenn whistled. “It is _so_ good to be home. Well it _was_ great to be home…”

“It was a pretty insane trip. We couldn’t wait to get home so we could relax from our _vacation_ ,” Maggie said as she made air quotes around the word ‘vacation.’ “It all started off with the flight from Atlanta to California.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t exactly one simple plane ride. Oh no,” Glenn scoffed.

“You would think it woulda been one straight shot from Georgia to the coast, but nope,” Maggie said as she shook her head. “We had to go from Atlanta to Chicago, then take another flight outta there to Phoenix. Then from there, we got on _another_ plane to Los Angeles.”

“Tell them about the cursed flight we took out of Phoenix,” Glenn scoffed.

“I was just getting to that sweetie,” Maggie said. “People were calling it the Flu on Flight 462.”

“What the hell happened?!” Rick asked, honestly wanting to know what had transpired. Daryl sat straighter up in his seat as well.

“So we’re in the airport in Arizona and at this point, we were both so fucking tired of flying, we were thinking of just going out on the highway, sticking our thumbs out and hitchhiking all the way to L.A. But they start boarding people on the plane so we got on,” Maggie sighed. “I mean, we were in the home stretch, you know?”

“This lady, name’s Alex, gets on the plane with this sick kid, Jake,” Glenn starts recalling with a bit of annoyance. “Real bossy, and starts giving orders to everybody. He’s supposed to get some major surgery in L.A.”

“You had to admire her dedication to her job,” Maggie nodded. “But she was a mega bitch. Of course, had there been no complications on the plane, we wouldnt’ve really cared abut her. Wouldn’t really noticed her.”

“You said something ‘bout the flu?” Daryl queried.

“Yeah, well that’s when the _complication_ comes in,” Maggie grimaced as she rolled her eyes.

“We had two choices for the in-flight meal,” Glenn said. “Chicken or fish.”

“We both had the chicken. Like we’d eat fish on a plane,” Maggie scoffed.

“Don’t tell me,” Rick started.

Rick had to concur.

Why would anyone eat fish on a plane?

“You guessed it. So everyone who had the fish is up and down in their seats, going to the bathroom to throw up and well…you know,” Glenn responded.

“It was awful, just awful,” Maggie said sadly.

“So how did… _Alex?_ How did she fit into all this?” Rick asked.

“The Captain gets wind of everyone getting sick and he’s thinking he needs to turn the plane around or maybe do an emergency landing or something,” Glenn shrugged. “Really? I just wanted to get to California but I could understand where he’s coming from.”

“Let me guess,” Daryl started.

“Yep,” Maggie nodded. “Alex starts getting in a fight with all the flight attendants, then the Air Marshall who just happened to be on the plane and _then_ she gets on the intercom and starts threatening the Captain.”

“So he starts getting on the intercom and then the threats start turning into insults and I think they even brought out the ‘yo momma’ jokes,” Glenn snickered. “We all thought the Captain was gonna come out and start throwing down with her.”

“Instead they exchanged numbers after the flight landed in LAX,” Maggie shrugged.

“I think after she got the kid to the hospital, they were gonna meet up for drinks and karaoke,” Glenn said.

“That sounds fucking crazy,” Rick said.

He imagined Alex would be at the top of the next ‘No Fly’ list Homeland Security put out.

“And that’s just the plane trip,” Glenn laughed. “My family got us this Mexican cruise.”

“So we got to the harbor. And there’s this _beautiful_ yacht,” Maggie gushed fondly in remembrance. “It even had a name. Abigail.”

“Then we start meeting the three families that were going to sail with us,” Glenn sighed.

“Only three?” Daryl queried. “So’s the boat was smaller than most cruise ships.”

“It was plenty big for all of us,” Maggie stated. “But yeah. It weren’t no Love Boat. It was cozy. I never did like those big cruise ships anyway.”

“Problem was, it was a little bit _too_ cozy, if you know what I mean,” Glenn sighed. “You couldn’t exactly escape the crazy people on the ship, and yeah, that included the Captain.”

“Strand,” Maggie sighed in exasperation.

“Hearing his name just gives me the creeps all over again,” Glenn shuddered.

“Don’t get me started on Strand,” Maggie frowned. “We got on the boat and he was all, ‘there’s only one rule you have to follow while you’re on the boat.’”

“Yeah and you know Maggie,” Glenn snickered. “She jumped up, smiled and said super eager-like ‘to just have fun?’”

Maggie hid her face in embarrassment at the memory.

“‘No! It’s _my_ boat,’” Maggie said imitating a deep voice before she resumed her normal voice. “And that was it. No rules. No safety protocol. Just ‘it’s my boat.’ Next day the rule changed though.”

“Well, that’s…something,” Rick offered.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed as she rolled her eyes, “‘it’s my _fucking_ boat!’” both Maggie and Glenn, mimicking deep voices, uttered in unison before snickering.

“Lord,” Daryl scoffed. “What were the families like?”

“Let me tell you ‘bout the first family we met. The mom’s name was Madison and the dad’s was Travis. They had three teens along with ‘em,” Maggie huffed.

“They were like some kind of fucked up Brady Bunch,” Glenn interjected. “The oldest kid, Nick, was this fucking tweaker and Alicia, his sister, was texting the whole time. They were Madison’s kids and then there was Chris. He was Travis’ kid. Really fucking creepy man.”

“If it were just the fact that he followed his _sister_ around with a camera,” Maggie said, once again doing air quotes around the word ’sister,’ “that would’ve been one thing. But he was just always saying weird shit.”

Rick thought he sounded like a normal teen.

Except for the preoccupation with his sister part.

“The kids were pretty dysfunctional but if you met their parents, you’d understand,” Glenn nodded.

“What do they do for a living?” Rick asked.

“They work for the Los Angeles School District. He’s a teacher and she’s a guidance counselor,” Maggie answered.

More people who seemed to be responsible for securing the future of the country.

Rick had a brief moment to ponder converting to Catholicism so he could enroll the kids in parochial school.

“Then there was this other family. Oh God,” Glenn groaned. “Well, to be fair, Ofelia and Andrew were pretty cool.”

“Oh she was a sweetheart. Her fiancé, Andrew, real awesome guy, just finished his tour of duty. They were always asking us all kinds of questions ‘bout wedding planning,” Maggie exclaimed enthusiastically.

Rick hoped Maggie didn’t give them his number.

“Maggie even told them about what happened the night of her bachelorette party when Alex and Marty hired strippers for the wrong Friday,” Glenn laughed. “She showed the pics she took of you guys dancing in your underwear.”

“You got pictures of _that_?!” Rick exclaimed.

“Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna post ‘em no where,” Maggie said.

That was some relief.

Not much, but some.

Maybe he and Daryl would have to _commandeer_ Maggie’s phone somewhere on the trip.

“So?” Daryl remarked with a frown. “They sounded great. Sounds like you found a cool couple to hang with.”

“Well,” Maggie grimaced. “Andrew decided to treat Ofelia…and her daddy…to the cruise.”

“Daniel, Ofelia’s _daddy_ ,” Glenn said, mimicking Maggie’s endearment for the man, “seemed okay at first. But yeah, he was all kinds of crazy.”

“Yeah, everything was fine…until Daniel introduced us to his wife, Griselda,” Maggie said, a sad smile on her face.

“Who had been dead for five years,” Glenn scoffed. “Dude was talking to his dead wife the whole trip.”

“He had some moments of clarity,” Maggie declared.

“But not many,” Glenn said. “The guy was certifiable, but a nice guy. Just a little scary.”

Sounded like a _lot_ scary to Rick.

“The only real issue I had with the guy was when he said Griselda was concerned that she looked fat in her swimsuit,” Glenn sighed. “So he asked me to tell her she looked great. But my _halmoni_ always told me one of the things I should always stay clear of was talking about anything related to a  woman’s figure and I should always deflect the conversation. So I did.”

“You never told me that,” Maggie said. “So when I asked you if these jeans were too tight…”

“Oh look, was that a deer on the side of the road?” Glenn said as he glanced out the side window.

“Nice deflecting there,” Carl chuckled from the back seat.

“You’re awake?” Rick asked as he regarded his son.

“Just because I had my _eye_ shut, didn’t mean I was asleep,” Carl snapped. “And yeah. I can make fun of myself too.”

“Please tell me the last family was somewhat okay,” Rick winced, as he remembered Maggie mentioning three families.

“Actually they were… _well_ ,” Maggie recalled as she contemplated how to go on. “There was this teen. Just the sweetest thing. Her name was Enid. But the parents,” she said as she shook her head.

“Real morons,” Glenn scoffed.

“I just loved Enid though. And she was the one who cut my hair!” Maggie exclaimed as she swished her bouncy bob around.

Maggie allowed a teenager to cut her hair and it was the girls’ parents who were morons?

“We had to stop the cruise ship three times because one of her parents fell off the back of the boat,” Glenn huffed. “ _Three_ times. After the third time, Strand’s new rule was ‘keep your ass on the boat.’”

“We made a stop at Catalina Island. That was…kinda fun,” Maggie said, somewhat unsure of her proclamation.

“Yeah, fun. Right,” Glenn frowned. “The lead forest ranger there was a real prick. Tried to tell me about my people. I was super uncomfortable with the whole conversation. He asked me what part of Korea I was from. I told him Michigan.”

“We all went to visit the llama farm,” Maggie said. “They were so pretty. Not as pretty as Tyreese’s baby alpaca but they were a sight to see. But well, Enid’s parents forgot to close the gate behind them and well…”

“We spent the rest of the day herding llamas,” Glenn smirked. “So yeah, now we’re barred from Catalina Island too.”

“We finally made it to Mexico,” Maggie continued. “A place off the coast of Baja.”

“We had a two-night stay at this vineyard-slash-spa place,” Glenn said. “You know, they prepare all your meals, while you spend the day relaxing at the pool, getting massages and…”

“The mud baths!” Maggie exclaimed, perking up. “God, those were _so_ amazing!”

“Yeah, except for that fucking tweaker, Nick.  He kept covering himself completely in mud and started calling himself the King of the Mud People,” Glenn scowled. “Fucking hated that kid.”

“The vineyard was run by this woman named Celia,” Maggie said.

“She had this huge celebration while we were there,” Glenn nodded. “Dia de Los Muertos.”

“Day of the Dead?’ Rick frowned. “But that’s not ’til November.”

“Yeah well,” Glenn sighed while rolling his eyes, “ _everyday_ is the Day of the Dead for Celia. Seriously, I’m not sure who was crazier. Celia or Daniel.”

“Then we had to bail Enid’s dad out of Mexican jail,” Maggie sighed. “There was some miscommunication or something. Her dad’s Spanish wasn’t too good.”

Rick thought Enid’s father and the Governor just _had_ to meet.

Which brought up another point.

“Hey,” Rick questioned. “You mentioned everyone else’s name but when you talk about them, you always call ‘em Enid’s mom and dad. What were their names?”

“You know, I can’t remember for the life of me,” Maggie frowned.

“You ‘membered Daniel’s wife’s name and she weren’t even there,” Daryl snorted.

“Yeah well, she was interesting,” Glenn remarked.

“So we finally got back on the ship, headed for Los Angeles and we thought nothing else could _possibly_ happen,” Maggie said.

“It seems Alicia was on the radio the whole time on the way back,” Glenn sighed. “She thought it’d be funny to put out a SOS.”

“No fucking way,” Carl exclaimed as he too pulled himself up straighter.

“Oh yeah,” Maggie nodded her head. “Half way back, the Coast Guard stops the boat. We all had to show identification and whatnot…”

“Yeah, to make sure we weren’t human traffickers or some shit,” Glenn huffed.

“At least Alicia got the number of one of the guardsmen, a real cutie by the name of Jack,” Maggie continued. “She was texting him the rest of the way back.  Kept her outta trouble.”

“Man!” Daryl blurted. “That was some crazy _shit_ right there. Surprised you even wanted to take this road trip when you got back from all that.”

“We’re in the vacation mode, you know. And we all may be crazy, but at least _you’re_ the crazy we know,” Maggie smiled as she patted Rick’s knee affectionately from the front seat before turning back around and gracing her new husband with a fond smile.

Rick smiled at the happy looking couple before settling down in his seat once again.

“You can rest your head on me again,” Daryl muttered.

“You sure about that?” Rick grinned.

“Yeah,” Daryl replied, giving a small smile in return as Rick made himself cozy against the man’s chest, the inviting smell of leather, musk and Daryl invading his senses once again.

There was a brief moment there where he heard Daryl inhale sharply before he expelled his breath, the slight breeze tickling the top of Rick’s head.

He was just about to nod off to sleep when Maggie’s smartphone rang.

“Yeah?” Maggie answered. “ _No way_ …you’re kidding…you got it?…Okay, bye.”

“What’s up babe?” Glenn queried.

“That was home. The strippers showed up,” Maggie giggled.

“Holy Shit,” Glenn whistled. “Has it really only been a week?”

“Seems like forever,” Maggie smiled.

Rick had to agree.

It did seem like forever since he met this strange and kooky group that he was starting to call family.

Then again, weren’t all families a bit fucked up?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I want to thank Bella_Monoxide for being a second pair of eyes for me. Love you sweetheart!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome and greatly appreciated as always.
> 
> Also, if you wish to see the photos the apartment is based on, you can go [here, my livejournal](http://slave-o-spike.livejournal.com/110230.html).


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